The King's Choice
by Little-Khaleesi
Summary: First Fanfiction - SAN/SAN AU.The hound stays in kings landing after The Battle of the Blackwater No longer betrothed to King Joffery, how will Sansa react when Joffery himself plots a new marrige for her, involving one of his kings guard? During end of ACoK to AsoS Disclaimer - Characters ect property of GRRM - I'm simply an obsessive fan!
1. Chapter 1

The King's Choice.

Chapter One

**Sansa.**

Sansa felt a sudden excitement within her as her measurements were taken, a new dress to be made, from the queen herself.

Cersei was not one for being kind, in fact, quite the opposite, Sansa half believed every act towards her was one of spite.

But, perhaps she had a change of heart?

No longer was she the betrothed to the wretched Joffrey, Every time she thought of her new found freedom her heart seemed to beat quicker.

But of course she wasn't free, was she?

The Hound always reminded her that it was a lie, not to trust everyone.

_The whole world is full of liars, every one better than you._

The night Sandor Clegane was waiting in her chambers, the thought seemed to fill her with emotion, which emotion she didn't know – It was still quite a shock.

He waited. He _cried._

She expected to him to leave, to never see him again, he deserted the battlefield, he wanted to take her with him.

_His little bird._

But he stayed, apparently when drunk enough he seemed to be able to brave the green flames once again, his nightmare.

Joffery had forgiven him, something she wasn't sure he was capable of, how can such a creature of hate forgive? But he did, Joffery relied on the hound more than seen in the public eye, he was more than a loyal dog, he was a father figure which Joffery longed for.

The hound avoided her, well, that's how it seemed.

She would politely enquire about his day and he would grunt and walk off, or make a comment on how the little bird does nothing but chirp away.

Maybe he doesn't remember?

_Why does she care?_

Sansa felt different towards him, the thought of him made her pulse race, her heart skip a beat, even.

His face held no fear for her any more, in fact if anything, it was a reminder of the gentle soul within him to her, that side which he locked away but opened to her.

"Your dress shall be divine, the queen ordered for no expense to be spared, you are very lucky child."

If only they knew, not that it would phase them.

"I'm sure this dress will be beautiful, tell the queen I am most grateful for it, that her kindness is next to none." Sansa droned out her usual courtesy, no longer did she take pride in her immaculate manners. If anything, her own polite habits seemed to annoy her.

_Chirp, chirp chirp. _

**Sandor**

"Come here, dog, I need you." Joffery waved his hand, expecting his dog to come forth and kneel.

_Little bastard, should've let the little bird push you._As Sandor obediently went forth to his 'master', the thoughts of the little shits brains across the cobbled floor made his lip twitch.

Since the night Stannis Baratheon took on the Lannisters, the thought of the bastard dying seemed to be the only thing that brought him joy. _What about your pretty little bird? _

It was as if his own brain wanted to piss him off, seven hells, the girl would be the death of him,

And yet, he couldn't stop thinking of her, her eyes wide and illuminated in the green glow of the fire, the mothers hymn, the gentle caress of her hand upon his wretched face.

He stayed for her, he knew if he left her on her own there would be no chance for her, a lone wolf amongst a pride of lions.

"Dog" Joffery spat in his usual self assured sneer "Go get Sansa, I know how much she likes you." His sarcastic words cut more than his stupid statements usually did, Joffery took a sick pleasure in watching Sansa hurt or distressed, when she flinched away from his burns Joffery seemed to smile.

Her torment was like the finest wine to him. _Bastard._

A part of him despised having to stand with her, to see her.

It reminded him every second how she would never be his, even with the Kings new betrothal to that Margery bitch he still had no chance, she was a lady and he was a dog.

_And that's all you're good for, taking orders._ His self tormenting was over as the little bird stepped from her room, her Tully blue eyes captivating him, her smile making him almost weak.

His weakness almost as strong as fire, her eyes.

"The king demands your presence." He spoke in a harsh rasp, he never intended to sound so brutal, but he saw his effect when her gentle smile evaporated, replaced with a disappointed grimace and a short sigh.

"Thank you, se-.." Her gaze rested upon him, registering her own mistake.

"The little bird is learning." Sandor rasped in his usual harsh tone. Sansa simply nodded, turning away from him as they made their way to the throne room.

Whenever they got close, she seemed to edge away, it irked him – he had the urge to grab her, pull her close and make her look at him, make her be close to him once again.

_She chose to touch you once,_ Sandor's lip twitched once again at the memory of her soft hand, so small, so gentle. His little bird.

As they approached the throne room, the look upon Joffery's face seemed to aggravate him. _What is the little shit up to?_

"Ah, Sansa, I have a wonderful announcement." Joffery stood, gathering the attention of all in attendance in the court. "My sweet Sansa, although our betrothal has ended, a new one shall begin, I shall see you wed to one of my own kings guard." Joffery's malicious grin spreading.

Sandor felt increasingly uneasy.

"Y-..You honour me your grace, who is it I am to marry" Fear being the obvious tone in his little birds chirping.

"Ah, Sweet Sansa, You shall marry the hound, fitting isn't it? A wolf bitch marrying a dog..."

Sandor could only stand in shock as Joffery laughed and Sansa paled. Seven Hells.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**Sansa**

Sansa felt herself go faint. _She was to marry the hound._

Her freedom was snapped away from her within a second, before she could even savour the feeling.

_He won't hurt you like Joffery._

It was only when she realised the Hound would be a better fit that the world started to come back around her, only then did she become aware of Joffery's twisted laughter and Cersei's expression of absolute rage. "My king, surely you know of someone much more suited for our sweet Lady Sansa." Cersei could barely muster up a trace of her usually flawless, graceful voice, Cersei was furious. "Mother, I believe my match to be ideal" Joffery flashed his usual malicious grin whilst waving his mother off. Her face turning a brilliant shade of magenta in the process.

"Are you not going to thank your king for his kindness, Sansa?" Joffery leaned forward in his throne, smiling with some form of satisfaction as he awaited her response.

"I can only apologise your grace, I was so overwhelmed with such happiness to my new betrothal, I am ever so grateful." Sansa slowly bowed, feeling the hounds own eyes burning into the back of her head as she spoke.

Joffery wasn't happy with her response, clearly he wished she would burst into tears and run off from the court room in disgrace, Joffery's brow creased as his vicious gaze burnt into her face.

"Fine." He spoke curtly as he leaned in his throne whilst interlocking his fingers together. "You shall be married on the morrow." Joffery eagerly waited for her response to that one. As did the hound.

"Thank you, your grace, I shall be ever so happy when I am joined with my betrothed." Sansa bowed gracefully, her lips forced into a gracious smile as she once again cut Joffery down.

He didn't hold back.

"Ah, And then there will be the bedding, I'm sure you shall be looking forward to such a union with your _precious_ dog." Joffery's lips curved into a wide smirk as Sansa's cheeks heated with a blush.

She couldn't reply to that one, It seemed this effected the Hound to, as she heard him suppress his usual violent snarl and shift to his other foot.

"Thank-you for your kindness your grace." Sansa quickly bowed, trying to take her exit of the court without breaking into a run.

She felt her hands shaking, body trembling as the realisation of the situation hit her.

_Married to The Hound_. She convinced herself that it wasn't too bad, infact the idea of being married to Joffery seemed to shake her more, The hound has been kind to her, surely there could be worse matchings for a lone wolf surrounded by hateful lions.

Sansa felt a steel grip upon her shoulder, forcing her to turn and face The Hound.

"You don't want this, do you little bird?" The Hound looked rather solemn as he rasped, his voice as gentle as he could produce.

"I-..I don't know" Sansa could barely speak to him, her stomach tying up in knots as she looked upon his face, it wasn't fear, she knew. She didn't know what it was, perhaps anxiety to what would come?

"We'll have to go through with this, little bird." The Hound shift awkwardly as he stood in her gaze, It was the first time she had ever seen him remotely uncomfortable around her."I will be a good wife." The hound's lips twitched at her dutiful response "I know little bird, I know."

**Sandor.**

Sandor could only watch as the little bird got flustered and fled to her nest.

_Poor girl, married to a mutt like me._

Sandor decided to act on his usual philosophy of drowning himself in dornish red.

As he finished his second skin of wine, he felt his shoulders loosen up.

_Fucking Joffery, I'll rip the little shits throat out._

His thoughts grew more intense and detailed as he started his third skin.

The little bird caught in a cage with an ugly mutt. _She touched your face, once._

Sweet little bird, She didn't deserve this.

As he continued to drain his third skin of wine, a tavern wench came forward, her lips curved in a lewd smirk and her eyes locked upon him. _His coin, more like._

"Are you alone M'lord?" She stepped forward with slight hesitation, her chest pushed out to try and tempt him to purchase the goods on offer. "I can always give ya' company." Once again, the wench stepped forward – her presence seemed to aggravate him.

"I don't want what you're offering, wench." His rasp a near snarl as he glared upon the woman.

She couldn't been older than twenty, rather young for a whore.

Her face showed promise of slight beauty, but in her current condition she looked dirty and plain.

"No need t'be mean, I was only...-" He snarled once again, sending the young woman on her way without a second of thought. Bitch.

Sandor waved his hand, getting yet another skin of wine. _What about your wedding?_

Shit on the wedding, he didn't want it, nor did she, why should he have to condemn her to a life of violence, why should he have to suffer her loathing every day of his miserable life.

_Fucking Joffery._

Just as he seemed to be drinking his way into a calm slumber, the local gossiping in the tavern reached his ears.

"The stark girl Is ta' wed the hound I 'ere, terrible isn't it?" The wenches voice a mere whisper.

"Poor girl, she must be terrified." The second woman didn't bother with such efforts of masking her voice. "Then again" she continued "Can't 'elp but wonder what the dog is like in bed, such a big man, maybe in more than one way" The group of girls, more than the two he heard, giggled openly, a new voice chipped in "Still, she'll be protected enough" to which the first wench retorted "Still, having to sleep with that monster – I'd rather be dead."

That was when whatever was keeping him calm snapped, so he stood, hands balled into such tight fists his knuckles went a pale white, his face a furious red it was as if his face was once again on fire. "I can make that happen, wench." The girls huddled around the table went a deathly pale, the one who had been open with her tongue backed into her seat, a shade paler than her friends.

"And, wench – A monster like me wouldn't fucking touch you with a stick, so pipe down." He grunted as the girl turned bright red.

It was time he left, this he knew for certain – the whole tavern had stopped their merriment and drinking, turning all their focus upon him with a curious and expecting inquisition.

_They hoped he'd make more of a scene._

_Fuck them all._

Sandor paid what was owed to the barkeep, taking his quick leave of the tavern.

He had to get rest, for he was to be wed on the morrow.

_Seven have mercy._

**_Sansa_**

**__**Sansa could barely sleep, in fact, she didn't sleep at all, she was to be married today. _Married to the hound_  
Her handmaiden attended to her, showing her the dress with a gasp of approval "Such fine silk, you shall look like a princess today dear."  
Sansa smiled as if she agreed, though the material of the stupid thing didn't bother her now, it would have.  
Back in her land of fairy tales and songs, she would have praised the silk and even praised right down to every minute detail.  
The dress didn't phase her now, it looked horrible to her - the dress in which she would be wed to a man who didn't want her.

He didn't, at least she knew than having to live a lie, her dreams of the perfect knight, in love with her - protecting her seemed far away now._ He did protect you._ But he hasn't spoke to her since they learnt their fate, she would have expected him to spend some time with her, they were to be married after all, even if it were against their will surely he would stay with.  
_But he didn't._

__As he drunk his way into oblivion on his favourite dornish red, which was his way when things didn't go to plan, Sansa learnt Cersei's true plans - She wanted her married to Tyroin Lannister, The Imp.  
_Married to the Imp!_

For all the kindness the Imp had shown her, She still couldn't bare even the thought of marrige with him, with the hound it was different, _they_ were different. She held the hound close to her heart, she didn't know how close though.

And that worried her.

Sansa lazily looked upon her form before her, if it wasn't for her nerves she would've taken pride in her majestic appearance, she looked like she belonged in kings landing with the deceitful lions. _Maybe the hound will think her pretty._  
The thought of the hound looking upon her with approval, him thinking of her more than his little bird gave her some excitement.  
Once they were married, she assumed that their relationship would change, she would love him, she thought of him  
dearly now, perhaps like her own mother and father their relationship would grow, and with it, they would be strong.

Sansa felt her nerves on edge as she began her journey to her wedding ceremony, after this she would be Sansa Clegane, wife of The Lannister's hound. She should be scared, maybe she was in shock?

Her nerves were further shaken by the sight of Joffery, dressed in his gallant finery, waiting for her.  
"I shall be your father today, Sansa" He took joy in that.  
"You will _never_ be my father." Sansa spoke rather calmly, though under the facade she was boiling away, ready to burst.  
"Even so, I hope you enjoy your wedding, I'm sure after all the wine he can drink the hound will really enjoy what follows."  
Joffery laughed as he took her arm, clearly enjoying her expression of shock as he led her to the ceremony.  
He leaned towards her before they progressed further "If he doesn't please you, _my lady_, you need not worry, for I shall always be of service when the hound doesn't bark, I'm sure I'll manage to make a little wolf bitch howl." Joffery spoke in a sinister, sly voice, his lips twitching into a coy grin as he dragged her through to the hall - leaving her no time to conceal her disgust of his words as she looked directly at the hound.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**Sandor**

Sandor had to take a sharp intake of breath, her beauty was magnificent, the queen herself was visibly seething with anger as even she couldn't outshine the little bird, which had obviously been a want of hers as she had dressed rather highly for the occasion, especially considering who the two being married were.

The ivory gown Sansa wore cascaded like a soft waterfall, engulfing her small figure and surrounding her within a well fitting sea of beautiful silk. The dress was designed to perfection, each small detail, such as embroidery or, even the small patterning of pearls were stunning.

The colour of the pale ivory against her light skin would've made a normal girl seemed rather pale and ill, but on Sansa she glowed, the cold colours reacting against her skin in the most beautiful light, naturally turning the cold into warmth and radiating her beauty, something which was lovely to behold, especially to him, she captivated him.

As she stepped forth in the aisle her striking blue eyes were locked, sinking deep within his grey ones. It was as if they couldn't look away, something about her made it almost impossible to stay where he was, the urge to grab her from the arms of Joffery and take her away from this whole farce seeming to be too strong to resist. _If only._

It seemed like eight moons had passed before the sweet little bird was beside him, shyly glancing away from him – focusing on the Septon as he started the ceremony.

It seemed to drag on forever, although the meaning of the ceremony should've been of significance, he couldn't focus, not with his little bird so near and so close to being _his._

Each verse seemed to bring him more misery, each laced with words of how the two shall be joined for eternity, how the seven would look upon them and bless their union._ Fuck the seven._

He was hardly a religious man, if anything he laughed in the idea, if there were gods why would the world be such a total shit storm?

Yet, some of the words he wished were true, of love regardless of looks and position, of eternal happiness for the couple and their eternal union, he wanted nothing more than to make the little bird happy, but he didn't know how..._how could she be happy with a monster like you?_

_Nothing but a monster and she is forced to marry you._ His own thoughts irked him, he knew the little bird would never admit it, but she didn't want this, even he, who adored the girl knew it wasn't right, she should've chose him, not been forced to take him from the orders of a king.

_And a bastard king at that._

The exchange of the cloaks was surprisingly nerve racking for him, as he changed her grey stark maiden cloak for the yellow and black colours of his own, he saw his hands shaking.

It was rare when Sandor got nervous, and this was as good a time as any.

His little bird frequently glanced towards him, her beautiful blue eyes wide, full of question and yet something else was expressed within them – but he couldn't quite work it out, he thought he would drown in those beautiful eyes until the Septon interrupted and brought him back to reality.

"You may seal your union with a kiss" The Septon's words seemed to startle the hound, as he looked over to the little bird, she was already facing him expectingly.

He grunted as he turned to her, feeling slightly guilty as the colour raised to the girls cheeks, and her expression turned into a barely concealed grimace, he'd upset her.

Sandor leaned forth, awkwardly placing his partially scarred lips upon her own perfect ones.

He hadn't expected such a rush of heat from such a brief kiss, he was further satisfied with an expression of her own shock as he leaned away. _Maybe she felt the same._

"I now pronounce you both husband and wife." The Septon smiled, clasping his hands together in what seemed to be joy for the couple, the people gathered clapped their hands, cheering as if they were too love-birds, finally together. _All lies._

The after wedding feast was rather lavish, more than what Sandor had expected them to do.

A near eight courses were served throughout the evening, each more grander than the next.

Obviously, another of the Lannister's goals to prove how truly wealthy they were, or, perhaps it was just done to appease the city folk, who had been rather in need of something to cheer them up, the war had been hard, hit hard on food and drink for the common people, Sandor knew from the fact every other Tavern had no stock of wine, only a poor ale to suffice. _He could use wine right now._

The little bird danced across the stage with many man, each turn of the dance floor irking him, but not as much as the lewd comments from other members of the kings guard, most of which revolved around the bedding which was supposed to take place later in the evening. _Seven help him._

His little bird seemed blissfully aware of what was to come, what was expected.

Would she even let him near her? _Would you force her if she didn't?_

Sandor had considered it once on the night of the battle of blackwater, so close he had came to raping her, yet, he couldn't do it, couldn't bring himself to hurt her.

Now, although it was his right as her husband, how could he?

"Sandor" The little bird chirped his name, it would take a long time for him to grow accustomed to Sansa Stark refering to him as 'Sandor', She held out her hand expectingly, her eyes twinkling with anticipation for their dance. _Or wine, though you haven't seen her drinking any._

Sandor replied with a grunt, pushing his bulking form from the seat and taking her tiny hand within his own, which was massive in comparison.

Sansa led him to the floor, where other men and women danced, laughing hysterically as some got the wrong step, or were just too drunk to even dance at all.

The contact between them as they paired up to dance was awkward at first, they didn't know how to speak to one another or even address each other.

They both sensed their similar worries, smiling rather awkwardly as they began to dance.

Their eye contact seemed to lock, they looked at each other intensely as if they were the only pair on the dance floor, or even in the hall. They had a mutual understanding of what was to come, they had accepted it. She trembled in his arms and he felt how weak, vulnerable she was. _She needed him. He needed her._

She was so small in his bulking arms, tiny – he felt as if one wrong movement would crush the little bird. She seemed at ease in his arms, which surprised him. He expected she would want to be as far away from him as possible, and yet, together they were strangely at peace.

Together they danced for a short while longer, until the wretched voice of the little shit King Joffery interrupted the pair, forcing them to snap out of whatever tranquillity had entered them, making them focus on the real world, and the real situation they were faced with.

"I believe it is time for the bride and groom to be bedded!" Joffery shouted out gleefully, As he gestured to the 'happy couple', a splash of the finest red wine dressed the floor. _He was drunk._

The gathering in turn lifted their goblets of wine, cheering for the bedding as happily as the king had addressed it. "Dog, you can thank me in the morning when you've had your taste of the innocent Lady Stark, but, rest easy my sweet Lady – If the hound does not please I shall always be waiting." Joffery's lips once again curved into a sickening smirk. "So, when shall we begin, dog?"

**Sansa**

Sansa stood near The Hound, her skin prickling and her body turning tense at the thought of being stripped off as bawdy comments were thrown in her direction, the same would happen to The Hound, too, but she assumed he wouldn't be as bothered as her.

She was already flashing a near fluorescent shade of red.

"Well, dog?" Joffery Sneered, taking another generous gulp of wine, something which reminded her of the late king Robert. _Perhaps he did pick something up._

"No, there will be _no_ bedding – I don't want it" The Hound ferociously rasped his words, his voice as sharp and deadly as an acid, almost daring anyone to try and defy him.

The king himself knew to shut up, his years with The Hound obviously made him learn when not to try and challenge his words, so, he simply nodded, going a strange silent which was almost shocking for Sansa to witness.

It had been an hour since she went to her chambers. _Their chambers._

She sat on the edge of the bed, pondering on what would be expected of her when the hound returned. He was drinking heavily, she knew that.

Perhaps he would fall asleep, or would be more insistent of them sharing their bed?

Sansa traced the fine material of a white undergarment, it was lying on the bed – waiting for her.

The queen must've arranged for her to wear something more appetising for The Hounds pleasure.

The thought made her slightly uncomfortable, although she thought them close, was she ready to be so _intimate_ with him. To bare herself completely infront of him.

She quivered.

The minutes seemed like hours as The Hound remained absent._ Maybe he has a lady with him._

No doubt it seemed likely, for what man on his wedding night didn't expect some kind of intimacy, but nonetheless it hurt, even if she was not ready for him, the idea of him with another woman, another woman getting his attention in that way made her jealous.

_Jealous_.

Sansa stood from the plush feather bed, her gaze resting upon the more figure flattering and skin revealing undergarment. She wasn't used to wearing such womanly clothing, although a women flowered she preferred to keep some decency with her choice of clothing, choosing the options of more childish attire than showing off her womanly figure.

Maybe The Hound would like her in this, perhaps it would please him?

Sansa slipped into the soft silk, her hands tracing the deliciously soft material as it hugged her hips and chest – she felt so strangely like a woman she didn't feel like herself.

She wasn't used to this, this sort of comfort in her new body, it made her feel good to wear such a thing, made her feel older, more mature.

Perhaps she wouldn't be the silly little bird any more?

Sansa traced the intricate detailing of the silk, finding the pattern of wolf near her thigh, she blushed. Was she meant to become the wolf she was so often convincing herself she was?

Was she ready?

Sansa lay back on the soft feather bed, her mind growing impatient as the wait dragged on, she wanted to please her new husband, she wanted him to be happy, she wanted to be happy.

But she didn't know how to achieve such things. She didn't know if she could.

**Sandor**

The last drop of dornish red left his goblet of wine, he should be leaving – it was late.

_The little bird will be missing you._

He drank too much. He realised it too late as he stumpled into the chambers he now shared with his new wife, she lay on the bed, wearing a rather womanly nightdress.

He felt uncomfortable, looking at her in that way.

He wanted her, seven be damned he wanted her, but to look upon her, lying – waiting for him, dressed in such an indecent manner for the first time seemed to effect him.

He edged towards the bed, grunting as he sat upon the edge, feeling instant relief as the weight of his feet was considerably lightened. "So the little bird is all dressed up for me." He spoke in his usual harsh rasp as she lightly traced the material of the nightgown with his rough fingers.

She blushed. "I..I thought you would approve, Sandor." Her voice almost a whisper, she had lost her confidence, perhaps she didn't have any to begin with. He felt guilty.

"You shouldn't be dressing like that around be, little bird – You don't know what you're doing."

Sandor clenched his teeth, the alcohol started playing with his mind again.

_She wants you, dog, take her – she wants you._

_She's waiting for you to do it, you fool._

Sansa slowly made her way to his side of the bed, sitting upright just behind him, her voice a gentle, unsure whisper "Do you not think me pretty, Sandor?" Her voice was almost heart breaking, you could hear she wanted his approval, she wanted him to _want her._

"Aye, you're a pretty little bird, but you don't want to be tempting me now." Sandor barely rasped his words before she cut in "But we are married" Her voice filled with innocence, that innocence stirred him slightly, and it was sharper than any blade in his heart as it conflicted with the wants of his nature and the knowledge of his brain. _She's so beautiful – she's so young._

"You're not ready, You know you're not" Sandor lay himself on the bed, glancing up at the girl, who's captivating blue eyes were wide, shocked, upset?

"I-..I could be, I could be ready...We could, try." Sansa trying to keep her voice strong.

_Shit on it, she needs to learn._

Sandor shifted his weight upon her, glowering down upon her with an unspoken annoyance and yet a want within him that even worried himself. "Is this what you want, little bird?" He growled, pushing himself forward to let her know exactly what she'd be in for.

He saw the change in her eyes – he assumed it was fear.

"Exactly."

The hound continued to look down upon her, waiting for her response.

"Is it because you do not find me attractive, Sandor?" Her bottom lip wobbling slightly as she looked at him, desperate for an answer. "No, little bird – I find you attractive." To further prove his point he made the bold gesture of pressing himself forward, letting her know exactly how attractive he thought she was. "_Oh." _Sansa could only blush to that. Sandor pushed himself up, swaying slightly as the effects of the wine took its toll. "You should be thanking me, little bird." He continued to snarl "If I were a Lesser man I would've had you twice over by now, if you wanted it or not – You shouldn't trust me to be a better man, not always little bird, I am only human after all, and even the strongest have desires." Sandor made his way to the chair, taking with him the white cloak which hung off the edge of it. He threw the cloak in Sansa's direction, the material engulfing her body – leaving no more of her but her head exposed to his gaze. "Cover up now, I don't want to continue tempting myself." Sandor lay back down on the bed, increasingly feeling guilty as the girl comforted herself – she was hurt. She felt rejected.

"Don't be that way little bird, It isn't you, I'm doing it for our own good." The words did nothing to appease her, she still felt wounded as her failed attempt of making him happy had only aggravated him. She thought he hated her.

Sandor groaned, extending his bulky arm and using it to drag the little birds tiny body into his chest, using his arm to lock her into place within his grasp. "Don't be getting yourself upset, girl, you need to sleep, we have quite a show to put on tomorrow." Sandor expected her to push away, but was further shocked when she infact cuddled into him. "I'm sorry I did that, Sandor, I thought you'd be happy" Her voice so gentle it could've been a lullaby "Don't apologise girl, you did no wrong, it is me who should be apologising, now go to sleep." Sansa once again snuggled closer.

"I hope I make you happy, I really want to be a good wife, Sandor." She looked up to him, her blue eyes visible in the vauge light of the moon, his lip twitched slightly "I hope I can return the favour little bird, I really do." Sandor's eyelids grew heavy, the heat of Sansa's body and the smell of her hair intoxicating him, willing him into a deep sleep, she too fell asleep peacefully in his arms.

_That night, Sandor no longer dreamt of fire – only her._

_And Sansa no longer dreamt of death and pain – only hope. _


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**Sansa**

As Sansa woke her arms stretched, searching for the massive form of The Hound behind her, her lips pulling into a disappointed grimace as her arm simply hit the pillow. _She was alone._

Sansa could only blush in shame as she recalled the night before, her body on display with a thin layer of fine silk between her and The Hound.

She cringed at her own foolishness.

He seemed to be aggravated at the sight of her, he rasped close to her face, the sour smell of dornish red in his breath as he warned her of her errors. He wanted her, though.

She _knew_ that, it was in his voice, his eyes, _his clothes._

Sansa didn't know if she could blush as much as she did, but her cheeks were a furious shade of red as she remembered his body pressed indecently against hers, so intimate and close.

Sansa continued to ponder upon how she would handle the actual situation in the marital bed, he was so massive she assumed he would crush her. He could if he wanted to.

Sansa was cut short in her thoughts as a short woman, dressed in a simple blue dress which clung rather weakly to her small form walked into the chambers, her black hair barely contained in a weak bun-style. "I'm here to help you dress, my lady." The young girl bowed, her small pouting clips curving into a gentle and somewhat forced smile.

She hadn't expected to still have a hand maiden, especially since she was married to The Hound.

Sansa could hardly bare to pull herself from the comforting bed, which still had a gentle smell of The Hound, who lay their hours before. "I'm so sorry, I had not been informed you were coming, otherwise I would've been prepared for your..-" Sansa could only gasp in horror as she realised she stood in her provocative night dress, the young handmaiden bit her lip, suppressing a short giggle at Sansa's mistake. The young girl lifted one petite hand "It is fine, M'lady, it is only proper for you to be dressed as such the morning after your wedding." The girl strained as she painfully tried not to offend.

Sansa nibbled at her lip, walking towards the mirror in an attempt of acting cool and relaxed. "I would like my hair just to be down today, And It would be helpful if you would assist me whilst I change into the light blue gown, its the one on the left." Sansa stared at her reflection as the young girl quickly prepared what was asked for.

She could only sigh at her form, she had a small frame – although tall for her age, she had always been thin – her mother used to worry that she would simply snap.

Sansa's lips curved into a gentle smile as she recalled the memory of her mother, she missed her, especially now. _She would've helped her so much._

The handmaidens tiny hands worked with the complex laces of her dress.

The dress clung in a flattering manner to her hips and chest, the pale blue material flattering her pale skin and firey Tully hair. _Maybe the hound would prefer this._

"Thank-you ever so much for your help." Sansa turned to face the girl, her lips gracefully curving into a polite smile. "Twas nothing my Lady." The girl dutifully bowed. The gesture seemed to irk her, she didn't like bowing as of late – she wanted to be equal. "No, Sansa – Perhaps I could ask for your name?" The young girl paled, clearly not accustomed to a Lady ditching the usual formality's "M'name is Kyra, my L-..Sansa." Sansa once again offered a smile. "I want us to be friends, Kyra, I really need one around about now." Kyra's lips turned into a smile, clearly she felt more at ease when Sansa's intentions were clear. "Of course.." Kyra paused, hesitating as she used her name once again. "Sansa, I would be honoured."

Sansa once again smiled, the young girl reminded her of a previous version of herself, all courtesies and shy. "The honour is mine, Kyra – I'm sure we will make good friends."

Sansa clutched to the basket as the went through the market place of kings landing.

The sight of the various products which the people sold would make her feel better.

But it was hardly easy to shop leisurely when half the marketplace stared at you openly, some even gossiping quietly to themselves, others not so discrete.

"The morning after, I bet she struggled to walk at first." One rather bawdy man cackled at her expense, his eyes burning into her flesh as she tried to shrink from his gaze and pretend she was focused upon one of them many market stalls. "I 'eard they didn't do the bedding, maybe she didn't let the hound near her." The other man sniggered, intently eyeing up Sansa.

She seemed to be the product of the common gossip.

She simply ignored the disgusting and often malicious lies that were circling, she gestured to a bar of soap shaped as a flower, the scent that of lemons, making her mouth water as she savoured the likeliness of the smell to that of lemon cakes. "How much for this?" Her lips curved into a gentle smile as the man looked in her hand at the bar. He waved his hands eccentrically "No, No, M'Lady must not pay for such a thing, please, take it." The mans lips curved into a gracious smile as he gestured frantically to the bar, and then to a small bottle.

"This also smells of the finest lemons my lady, for your hair!" He grinned, opening the small glass container and holding it to her face.

The smell was divine, as gentle as the smell was, it was distinctly lemon. "Take it, take it, It pleases me so to see the young lady happy." Sansa could only smile at such kindness, something she had long forgotten in the hands of Joffery.

The man was a kind soul, continuing to give her various things for free until she had to decline anyore. Her basket at this rate was almost filled with beautiful smelling soaps and oils, the man seemed rather disappointed as she rejected his further offers, but nonetheless bid her good day and vowed she would enjoy her products as she progressed through the street.

Whilst she was in the market she purchased a few skins of red wine for The Hound, she knew he would want a drink – and the man at the market insisted she try his new red, at a bargin price which would be an insult to refuse.

Sansa seemed to be irked at the sudden kindness of the various people, when the gossiping had died down from her appearance at the market, she couldn't seem to understand why they would suddenly favour her. Daughter of a traitor whom they once mocked, they didn't want her as queen either.

And now she was married to The Hound, surely they would dislike her more?

That was when she realised. They feared The Hound, tales of his brutality in and out of the battlefield were common knowledge, they didn't want to displease Sansa in fear The Hound would lose his infamous temper, so they showered her with lovely things to keep her pleased, perhaps to even have a word of approval to The Hound himself. She felt horrible.

Once again her tranquil thought were disrupted by a sudden tap on her hip.

She glanced downwards to look upon the scarred and disfigured face of Tyrion Lannister.

"I see you are enjoying the loveliness of the marketplace, Lady Sansa?" His voice a gentle courteous mutter, just so she could hear. "I am, my lord – It is rather pleasant today and the people are ever so kind." Her lips forcing themselves into a smile, it was as if they had a mind of their own, programmed to smile on command.

"And how is your marrige treating you, good, I hope?" He inquired as if it were out of formality, though his eager tone and frantic glances suggested otherwise.

"It is well my lord." Tyrion wasn't pleased with her response.

"A little bird told me The Hound has not been in the marital bed with you, perhaps it is for the best." Tyrion shifting awkwardly as they walked together.

"After the wedding celebrations we had barely any energy, my Lord, once we had returned to our chambers, we had to rest." Sansa knew he wasn't buying it, he surprisingly knew when she was lying, then again, she wasn't the best of liars.

"Very well, but my nephew isn't too pleased about the news, he had hoped this arrangement of his would be hell for you – but perhaps it is better this way." Tyrions voice changing as he went into his own spiral of thought. "What other way was there?" Sansa glanced to the imp, watching his eyes snap back to reality and his lips curve into an awkward grin. "Ah, never mind Lady Sansa, I wish you all the happiness in your marriage." He gently bowed towards her before making a quick exit, he rushed to be away from her.

As the day grew cooler Sansa knew it was time to return to her chambers, it was getting later and surely the hound would be back soon, perhaps expecting her to be there.

As Sansa made her way through the castle halls, she was shortly joined by Joffery.

His presence irked her, made her on edge and instantly uncomfortable.

"How is my Lady's marriage? Good I hope." His voice putrid and almost acidic.

"It is well my Lord, my dear husband and I are enjoying our new life together." Sansa once again smiling on command, Joffery bristled, sniffing before continuing with his spiteful words.

"Well, I'm sure once he's had his way with you things will be different, the whole court knows how much he wishes to bed you, my Lady – You should prepare yourself to get bitten by the dog." Joffery laughed a little at his own words. "Anyway, I expect you and the dog to be at my wedding to Lady Margery – But fear not, Sansa, My marriage will not make me forget you. Once Margery is with child I shall be sure to direct my attentions to you." Joffery grinned before heading back in the way he came, clearly delighted when Sansa's guard fell and resulted in her grimacing.

_I hope the hound beats him bloody one day._

Sansa had begun preparing a simple stew, leaving it to boil over the fire in their chambers.

She could have went to the kitchens, but she felt more comfortable preparing the dish herself.

As the pot boiled away, she called for Kyra, who scurried in a few seconds later.

"Kyra, I require hot water for a bath." Kyra smiled, nodding her head dutifully as she head back to the door. "Yes my-.." She paused to correct her error again. "Sansa, do you want anything else?"

"No, that is all – in fact, if you could look out for my husband that would be good, but if you cannot see him on your way, don't go looking for him." Kyra reluctantly nodded, going off to fetch hot water for Sansa's bath.

Once prepared, Sansa stepped into the steaming water, sighing in relief as the hot comforting water sloshed a bit and surrounded her aching neck – it was blissful.

She felt herself unwind within the tub, her muscles no longer tense and filled with pain and stress, her hair too felt like the finest silk with her new lemon scented ointment massaged in it as the man directed, she felt herself being lulled to a calm sleep-like state by the warmth and the beautiful smell of lemons.

She lay back, her eyes closed and her lips parted with a sigh as she unwound in the tranquil waters of the tub.

**Sandor**

As Sandor awoke he groaned – the pain of what felt like three hammers smashing into his head awaiting him as he opened his eyes and let in reality.

His dream was bliss, him and the little bird, alone. Together.

His dream was a near reality as he looked down upon the girl, curled in his arms – she was so tiny there, like a little doll.

It had pained him to pry himself away from her, but ith ad to be done. He had work for the little shit to do. _This will be a day to remember._ Sandor grunted, pulling on his armour and cloak before making his way to the throne room.

There awaited Joffery, sitting upon his iron throne. _The little bastard probably had his crown stuck up his ass, he was so full of shit on the throne it made sense._

"Ah, dog, how was your night, I know how much Sansa is fond of you. Must've been delightful." Joffery grinned sadistically, truly hoping the night had gone as he wanted, Sansa being fully disgusted at The Hound's face – and the hound forcing her into participating in his right as husband, the scene had made in his mind seemed to play on loop as he continued grinning at Sandor.

Sandor meerly grunted, deciding not to go for the bait. _Though the king would love to know how the little bird was more than willing._ His lip twitched. To see the little shits hopes drain from his face would've been wonderful, but he knew he would then plot something else to upset the little bird.

Best save her the misery.

"Anyway, Dog, I am to be wed to my beloved Margery – I expect you and your bitch to be present, understood?" Joffery relishing his new name for Sansa, obviously thinking it rather clever of himself.

"Aye, I'll be there." Sandor rasped, looking back from Joffery to the busying throne room.

He grunted, shifting his weight to his other foot as he slowly waited for the circus to begin.

And so it did, person from beggar to wench came at the kings feet, begging for gold or for a favour. Most got denied of course for the King only accepted those who grovelled to his satisfaction, which was demoralising and a true embarrassment for any who partook in it. _Cunt. _

He himself was heartless at times, infact, he used to laugh along with Joffery at the boy's own disgusting sneers and jokes, they used to share a same mind.

But that changed when Sansa Stark came into their lives.

Joffery chose the path of beating the bird, of cruelty, were the hound had chosen to show her kindness and affection – That was when he began to hate the little bastard for what he was.

A spoilt Lannister brat.

When the boy was younger, The hound had taken quite a liking to him.

Young as he was he was rather mature, he knew what was happening in the world.

It made it harder when his parents argued, he knew what actually had occurred and didn't believe the lies that were fed. The boy came to him for comfort and spent many a night sitting with the hound, listening to his stories of battle or just simply telling him what was wrong.

But that boy was gone.

He died with Robert Baratheon and was buried when the stupid bitch, cersei, but a crown on his head.

The court grew tiresome and eventually cleared of people begging for favours. Joffery waved his kings guard away – finally allowing him his escape.

"Wait – Not you, dog." Sandor bristled, turning on his heel – he felt his temper rising.

"What is it, your grace." He strained to keep calm, all he wanted was to leave.

"I know you didn't bed Sansa." Joffery started, progressing forward to him. "If you don't I won't be happy, Dog." Sandor raised his eyebrow, wondering why the boy had so much of an interest in the affairs of his marital bed. "Why are you so interested in if I fuck the girl or not, your grace?" His voice suddenly a rather sharp and cutting rasp. Joffery stood tall, deciding to enforce his power as king. "You don't ask your king questions, Dog, you listen to them and you answer them. You better do it quickly – Or i'll find someone else who will, and she won't have an option." Joffery smiled, turning on his heel and walking triumphantly from the court.

The Hound went red his fury, visualising knocking the little shit to the floor and smashing his face into the floor until his brains decorated the pale tiles with a splatter of red.

_Seven hells_, one day that boy will push too far, and no one would be able to stop him until it was done.

Sandor sought his usual comfort in the bottom of a skin of red wine. He knew The little bird must be missing him, he hadn't been in all day, and, he was her only real company now.

He didn't know if he could bare going back to the chambers, what if she tried another trick tonight?

_Could be hold himself back this time?_

He grunted.

The girl was a never ending tease, unintentionally usually but now she tried it was almost painful to control himself. It had been a long time since he'd been with a woman. The last wench he paid for was a moon before the battle of blackwater. Shit.

Sandor stood from the bar, streaching his arms so his neck produced a satisfying click.

He walked around kings landing, finding a strange peace in the silent dark which surrounded him.

He usually didn't bother, he hated being alone with his thoughts – his own conscience pissed him off.

Sandor finally made it back to his chambers. _The little bird will have missed you, dog._

He felt slightly guilty, leaving the girl on her own all day, especially after how he treated her last night. _It was for her own good._

Sandor finally reached the chambers he shared with the little bird, he looked to a small, young looking woman who had fell asleep by the door...

Sansa's new Handmaiden, something the queen had requested – _probably a spy._

As he pushed against the door it flew open with no resistenece, he took a step forward – being confronted with his little bird, lying back in the bath with her eyes closed. _Shit_

He held his gaze there far too long, long enough for her to open her eyes and let out a scream of shock, causing him to also scream and back into the door – whacking his head.

**Sansa**

As she opened her eyes, she noticed Sandor staring at her, she was naked.

She let out an ear piercing scream, resulting in Sandor himself jumping back and screaming on his own. She heard a bang, as she looked back whilst trying to scrambled from the bath with her arm over her breasts she realised he had whacked his head, as she went to laugh at him childishly rubbing the back of his head, with the distraction, she hadn't realised she missed her footing,

sending her falling to the floor with another scream, she hit the floor with an almighty force, and the room went quiet.

"Little bird? Are you-..Are you uhhh..hurt." Sandor awkwardly spoke, looking down at her bare back..and lower. He went over to assist her after slamming the door shut, awkwardly rasping to her as she lay – still baring all to him.

She looked over her shoulder, rubbing the tip of her nose as she took in his dazed, embaressed expression. Forgetting the fact she was sprawled out on the floor, naked as the day of her birth, she started to giggle.

At first, his eyes widened at her laughter, but after a second his own lips twitched violently – threatening to burst out into a wide grin – which they did.

Sandor erupted into an hysterical laughter, his laugh booming louder than her own and yet spurring her on to laugh even more. Their laughter lasted for the best part of 10 minutes as Sansa awkwardly scrambled to her feet and diving on the bed for cover. Even after she had yanked the cloak he handed her over her naked body they continued to laugh under their breath, and, just as they thought they were calm Sandor leaned back, whacking is head _again_ on the wall – starting them off all over again. It seemed like for the rest of the night all they did was laugh.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**Sandor**

Sandor once again awoke with a pain echoing in the back of his head – but he didn't mind.

The night before was wonderful, he hadn't expected to be able to be so comfortable with Sansa, especially considering the night started with him walking in on her _naked._

He certainly hadn't expected to come across that sight, as shocked as he was he couldn't help but drink in her beauty. _She was truly magnificent._

Sandor couldn't help but feel particularly vulnerable when thinking of his little bird, he felt suddenly attached to her, he always felt he had to protect her, look out for her.

But now he would gladly _die for her._

Sandor slipped from the loose arms of Sansa, pulling himself from the bed to prepare for another day at the king's side.

He couldn't pull the daunting thoughts from his head as he made his way to the throne room.

_Everyone he was supposed to love had hated him._

_His own blood wanted him dead_.

Love was painful for him. He didn't know if he could cope with getting hurt again, especially not by her.

"Dog." Joffery glared at him as he progressed to the foot of the iron throne, bowing to the king.

"My King." Joffery took no notice of his habitual bowing. "You displeased me, dog." Joffery leaned forward, glaring. "I told you what I wanted and you _ignore_ me." Joffery stood from the iron throne, his eyes shooting another poisonous glare in his direction "I'll give you another chance, I know it must be hard for you to want to touch Sansa, as pretty as she is she's nothing but a wench from the north who's father is a traitor. But, I won't have you ignoring my demands, you will take Sansa, if she's willing or _otherwise._" Joffery stressed the 'otherwise', seeming more leaned to the side of her being forced into it. He felt slightly sick at the thought of his little bird being forced in such an act.

_What will he do?_

Sandor grunted, letting Joffery decide what his response meant "Good, dog – Don't displease me again, or I might have to take her myself, maybe you could hold her down for me." Joffery chuckled with his usual irritating and sadistic laugh, relishing in the thought.

"I don't need you today anyway, hound, do whatever pleases you." Joffery turned back to the throne, waving his hand in Sandor's direction in means of dismissal.

Sandor felt his stomach twist, he hadn't felt so terrible since...

Well, since his childhood. The days of rejection and loathing.

He didn't want to hurt his little bird, she didn't deserve it.

But, if he didn't Joffery would be far more cruel.

Sandor sat himself in his usual tavern, taking his favourite place in the darker corner of the room.

It gave him peace, people never strolled too far from the bar, leaving him free to drink quietly.

The aging barmaid smiled, asking if he'd take his regular of dornish red.

"Aye, I'll take two." Sandor rasped, his voice having more of a bitter edge to it than usual croak.

The Barmaid flinched at his voice, perhaps radiated hate.

Sandor slipped a gold stag on the table, covering the cost of any more wine he may consume whilst leaving the girl with a tip. "I'll get to it, rough day eh'?" Sandor could only nod. He'd been in here so much the barmaid knew him well, if that's not a sign of bad things to come he didn't know what was.

**Sansa**

Sansa awoke to an empty bed. _Again._

She wished he'd stay, even for a little longer, It was still very early, meaning he left after only a few hours sleep. _Maybe she could wake up earlier?_

Sansa slipped from the soft sheets of the bed she shared with her hound.

Kyra must have heard her wake, as the young girl wasted no time in tottering in to greet her as she woke. "Sansa." The young girl bowed. "How did you rest?" The young girls dark brown eyes wide with interest. Sansa blushed. "_Oh, _I slept well." Sansa bit her lip.

"I..-Fell asleep, I would've stopped him from coming in if.." The young girl blushed.

"It's fine, we were laughing over it, honestly." Sansa held her hand up, her lips curved into a gracious smile. The young girl stirred once again.

"Have you and he...I thought, you know." The girl looking up intently, unsure if she was pushing an unspoken boundary between the pair.

_Well, It's good to talk to someone, right?_

The pair sat at the small wooden table in far right corner of the chambers she shared with the hound.

The room was spacious to say the least, a home within a home almost.

She was flattered to have such a room.

The imp had insisted the pair had a suitable living space for a married couple, and so they did.

The room was decorated with a fine grandeur, the natural browns of the wooden furnishings complimented with a golden gilding.

The windows surrounded by a luxurious scarlet red drapery which matched the colour of the silk bed sheets, the room also included a large fire which radiated it's head around the room and lit the room with the soft, comforting flicker of fire light.

"Well, Sansa, perhaps he doesn't want you to think he's taking advantage." The young girl spoke softly, trying to be delicate with her words on the matter as they nibbled on bread and cheese together. "But, I want him to be happy." Sansa sighed, unsure how to please her new husband.

"Maybe he is, Sansa – you didn't chose this marriage, he knows that. It takes a kind man to consider the needs of his wife before his own." Kyra spoke with a unexpected wisdom before biting into a piece of cheese, her lips curving into a gentle smile as she looked at Sansa's disappointed expression. "Don't worry, things will come in time. It is better this way, it will be more meaningful when it happens." Kyra pushed the plate around the table, slowly rotating the golden edged plate between her fingers.

Sansa's lips formed a soft pout. "Kyra, are you married?" Sansa slowly looked from the table, unsure if she would answer – it might be a private thing.

Kyra in turn smiled reassuringly "Yes, Sansa – I am, I was married around your age." Sansa paused for a moment, "Was it..love?" Sansa felt rather stupid, if the hound had heard her question he would have scoffed at the words and called her a silly little bird with a head full of songs.

Kyra seemed to sigh, her expression turning rather solemn and less childlike. This was when Sansa saw her age more, she realised Kyra must have been six years her senior, maybe more.

"Not quite." Kyra reclined in the wooden seat, shifting until she was comfortable before continuing. "I'm the daughter of a tavern owner, Sansa, My marriage expectations were lower than that of a lady." Sansa suddenly felt as if she should've left it private, Kyra sensed her change of heart, but continued nonetheless. "I married a local farmer, he was twice my age..Similar to you and The Hound I suppose." Sansa listened intently, suddenly gaining an interest in her marriage, perhaps Kyra would give her advice to make the most of her own?

"My marriage was different to yours. He wasn't a kind man at first – he was older, lost a wife before me whom he had loved. He was a bitter, cruel man, of course I was shy...I hadn't been told of what was expected of me, my mother died when I was young, as an only child my father hadn't quite had the heart to discuss such matters with his child. I knew vague facts from friends. Well, I wasn't prepared. He got angry with me pretty quickly – he was violent, but of course with time grew friendship which grew into a love of sorts...You are lucky to have a kind man, especially one who appears to be prepared to die for you, from what I hear." Kyra smiled gently, registering Sansa's look of upset as she processed the story.

Sansa held out her hand, taking Kyra's slender fingers within her own. "I'm so sorry that happened to you Kyra, I'm so...so sorry." Sansa felt terrible, she knew what it was like, not to the extent of Kyra, but to be beaten by someone who was supposed to love you.

"Don't be, Sansa – We are now happy, I believe you should give it some time, he may not be used to such a pretty young girl throwing herself at him, you know, with his...burns." Kyra tried to speak tenderly so not to offend. "_Oh.._you think he could be...like me?" Sansa blinked, never having thought such a thing of the hound before. "No, no – I'm sure he's...done that, before Sansa, just not with a girl as pretty and delicate as yourself. Perhaps not with a girl who he hadn't paid really, even men without burns often only sleep with ladies of the coin." Kyra spoke matter of factly.

Sansa felt suddenly guilty. "Does...it hurt as badly as they say?" Sansa's cheeks flushed a delicate pink as she waited for a response. "A little. It can shock you at first, but then you get used to it, and eventually it goes away." Kyra smiled as she stood from the wooden seat, gathering the now empty plates from the table. "Don't worry, Sansa – what will be, will be. You seem to care for this man, huh'?" Kyra's lips curving into another smile as she stacked the plates.

"I-..I think so." Sansa got suddenly embarrassed, Kyra simply laughed, as if having more of an understanding than Sansa knew of. The girl left with the plates to the kitchen, leaving Sansa to reflect on her thoughts.

**Sandor**

Sandor had been in the tavern for the best part of the evening, the aging barmaid sighed as she waked to his table. "You know the time, I think you best go back to your lady wife." The girl smiled, giving him a wine skin on the house as she closed up the tavern.

He stumbled out from the bar, knowing once again he had drunk far too much.

_I bet the little bird has found some other company._

He bristled at his own thoughts.

The idea of his little bird with another man made him want to slaughter the first person to even look at him wrong. If _anyone _touched her he would surely kill them.

Sandor barely made it back to the halls of kings landing, passing the now near deserted throne room on his drunken path. His thoughts winding him up, testing his temper.

He felt his fists curling into tight balls – his knuckles becoming white.

As he edged closer to the room he shared with the little bird, he spotted the young handmaiden near the room – shooting her an angry glance.

"What are you doing here?" His rasp a near growl.

The girl paled.

"I was talking to Sansa, I'm on my way home." Her voice sounding rather rebuking nd shocked.

"Wonderful." Sandor once again growled, giving her the sign to clear off, quickly.

Once the girl scampered off, he made his way into a spacious chambers he shared with his little bird. She lay on the bed, her eyes scanning the pages of a book of poems.

"Always with the fairytale, little bird." He almost snarled as he stumbled onto the bed.

He began to throw off the heavy plated armour from his body, creating various loud crashes as the metal collided viciously to the wooden floor. Sansa flinched every time it hit.

"Living in a dream world of sunshine and rainbows, silly bird." Rasping harshly as he lay on to the bed, staring at the young girl, her eyes wide and bewildered whilst her lips were parted, forming a tiny oval of surprise at his attitude.

"You've been drinking, haven't you?" Her voice rather matter of fact as she leaned back into the feather stuffed pillows. She sounded strict, almost reprimanding.

"Oh the little bird doesn't approve?" He cackled, leaning further back into the pillows.

She stiffened, leaning on her side so she faced him, speaking in a gentle tone.

"I wish you didn't drink so often, we could spend more time together."

He smirked, the alcohol messing with his judgement. "Aye, but drinking is the only thing that keeps me from hurting you."

Sansa frowned. "You wouldn't hurt me, Sandor – I know you wouldn't."

He leaned up, looking down at her incredulously

"Wouldn't I?" Sandor leaned down over her, she lay on her back – facing his face directly as he adjusted himself so his weight leaned on his elbows at her side.

"I would, I'd hurt you because I want to – not intentionally, but I'm a man, and men think of one thing, girl." He grunted, looking down upon her beautiful face, being memorised by the flowing firey Tully hair which lay spread on the pillows. He leaned down, the burnt side of his face near her cheek to smell her hair. He inhaled heavily, sighing against her cheek as he leaned away.

"You really like lemons, don't you little bird?" He ran one hand through her thick hair, it feeling like the finest satin against his rough fingers.

"I know you won't hurt me, why do you have to act so mean." Her voice was a gentle caress against his cheek.

"Maybe I am mean, little bird." His raspy voice suddenly gentle.

"No, you're not." Sansa sighed, her hand suddenly raised and placed against his cheek.

"You're a kind man,Sandor, regardless of what you try to prove. You won't hurt me, and i'm not scared of you so stop acting like I am." Sansa ran her soft palm against the rough, burnt side of his face, her eyes searching within his dull grey eyes, her lips still gently parted.

"I may have to." His eyes narrowed, he looked truly upset.

"Why...What's wrong?" Sansa's brow creased, her gaze showing her frustration to the lack of details.

"Joffery wants me to hurt you, little bird – wants me to force myself on you." He looked truly saddened as he spoke. "Said he'd do it if I didn't, he'd make me hold you down he said." His rasp became a near whisper.

Sansa grimaced, placing her other hand over his. "We-..We can find a way."

Sandor simply laughed, though it wasn't of humour – more dark.

"The only way he'll be pleased is if I hurt you, you know that." Sandor grumbled to himself.

Sansa leaned forward, making a bold move as she placed her soft lips upon his scarred ones.

He froze. Not knowing how to respond before eventually his basic instinct took over, he moved his lips in a caress against her's, taking a handful of her silky Tully hair within his palm as he leaned down, consuming her mouth with his own.

Sandor had to hold back a laugh when Sansa made an unlady like noise, one he had never expected from his little bird. _Seven help me._

He knew he had to stop.

As he painfully withdrew his lips from her's, she frowned. "Did I do something wrong." her voice breathless, almost whispy.

"No, quite the opposite little bird, I can't go further – not yet. It's too soon." Sansa nodded, knowing he was doing what was best for her. "Sandor we have to make him think you've hurt me. You know that." Sandor looked deep within his little birds eyes, knowing what she said was true. Inevitable.

"I don't want to hurt you, I'd rather burn a hundred times then see you cry at my own hand." His voice was as sharp as valeryian steel, she knew what he said was true. "Just, create a few bruises..If he see's them he'll be satisfied." Sansa took a sharp intake of breath, preparing herself for the pain.

But nothing could've prepared her for the sharp pain of The Hound's grip on her arms.

**Sansa**

Sansa screeched in agony, the sensation of her arms snapping making her want to cry.

Her eyes welled up with tears – as she looked up, she realised as did Sandor's.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." Sandor repeated the words like a chant, his voice painful and almost heartbreaking to simply hear, he created bruises over her arms, and some even on her legs to be sure. Sansa was screeching at the pain, bursting into hysterical tears as he finally stopped, leaving her aching.

He instantly grabbed her delicately into her arms, her head under his chin she felt the wet drops of his own tears as he cuddled her to his giant chest. "I'll kill him for making me do this to you. I'll have his head, I swear it. I'll rip his eyes out and shove them up his arse. I'll make him pay little bird, I will."

Sansa's tears slowly died down, until she was only sniffling. "It's okay, I'd rather this than have him touch me, even for a moment it would be unbearable." Sansa buried her face into his chest, sighing as the smell of his skin brought her instant comfort, she felt as if she could stay there forever and just sleep. "You best strike me girl." He leaned away, prepared to take a hit.

"Wh-..What?" Sansa looked bewildered.

"I can't do it myself, and I doubt if this happened you'd go down without a fight now, huh'? Come on now, just think of the little shit and i'm sure you'll get it done." Sandor's jaw clenched as he waited for the strike.

Sansa smiled. "I can't believe we're doing this, it's kind of funny really." her voice gentle, trying to make a light of the situation.

"Aye, it is, but hurting you is not funny for me. I never want to do it again." His eyes rested upon her face – his eyes so deep and filled with concern. She seemed to melt under his gaze.

"Okay so..-I best...do this." Sansa coughed, raising her hand to gain a momentum for the strike.

Sansa smacked the hound over the face, creating a loud 'THWACK', and causing him to flinch.

His face went red were she hit, causing her a pang of guilt.

"Sorry." Her lips wobbling as she realised what she had done.

"Don't worry little bird, it had to be done, now come here." He opened his bulking arms, ready for her to sink within them. She lay into his grip, finding instant comfort in his arms.

"I care about you, you know that right." Sansa buried her face in his chest, sighing against his skin.

Sandor went quiet for a while, which worried her until he finally replied. "I...I care about you also, little bird." His voice cracking slightly as he spoke, clearly struggling to talk about feelings.

They fell asleep in each others arms, remaining that way until morning.

As Sansa awoke she once again stretched her arm, being shocked to feel something under it.

_Sandor was still here._

Sansa turned onto her side so she could look upon him as he slept.

He looked so peaceful.

She raised her hand to trace the like of his eyebrow, tracing the various features of his face, his nose, his lips, his burns. Her finger gently caressing them all.

She felt her stomach flutter as he shifted in his sleep, she knew he'd be up soon.

She slipped from the bed, suddenly feeling the effects of their plan the night before as she noticed a variety of brusing along her body. She also noticed the dark circle under Sandor's eye.

That would please Joffery.

Sansa made a quick trip to the kitchens, gathering up bread and some bacon and fruits for Sandor before he woke.

She prepared the table with the fruit and breads, putting the bacon over the heat to let it cook through until crispy. The smell must've woken him, because as the bacon began to sizzle in a satisfying manner, he rose from the bed.

"What's that noise?" He grunted, running his massive hands down his face.

"I got some bacon from the kitchens, do you want any?" She glanced towards him with a smile.

He too returned the smile, his smile would've scared her once as when his lips parted to reveal his strangely perfect teeth, his burns twisted and gave a more grotesque appearance, but now it made her stomach flutter – it made her feel rather giddy and excited.

"Sure" Sandor grumbled, his eyes firmly set upon the various blackening circles on her arm.

"I hate myself for that." He huffed, his raspy voice sounding rather bitter.

"Don't, It had to be done – You haven't seen your eye yet anyway." Sansa smirked, suppressing a short giggle as she passed him a plate. As she was leaned closer to him, she decided to peck him on the cheek. His reaction was priceless, just about holding the plate, his mouth seemed to open a little with shock whilst his eyebrow raised.

"Is it a crime for a wife to kiss her husband in the morning?" Her smile growing as she watched him set the plate down, slowly, and reply in jest. "Depends what her intentions are."

"What if it is to simply show her husband how much she loves him, surely that is acceptable?"

Sansa grinned, sitting on the opposite side of the oval table, biting her lip slightly as she realised what she had said.

"So you love me now little bird, that what you tryin' to tell me?" Sandor's lip twitched before pulling back into a grin as she looked a little guilty. "I'm only kidding girl, don't take things so serious." He laughed a little, lightly shaking his head as he bite into a piece of the bacon.

"What would you say If I did?" Sansa locked her eyes upon his face, which seemed to change into a bit of a frown before he looked at her.

"Do you?" His voice trying to sound calm and collected, but it gave away his eagerness to know.

"Who knows, things change." Sansa's voice a gentle mutter.

She noticed him smile. "Right you are little bird, right you are."

He stood from the table, collecting his cloak as he walked to the door.

"I'll be back early I suppose, with the wedding being planned I'm not needed for much, we could go into the market if you'd like." He acted almost shy as he asked her, his voice uncertain as he proposed the day out.

She smiled, becoming endeared his his uncertainty. "I'd love to, It'd be nice to spend more time together..I mean, if you'd want to and all." Her gaze dropping to the table, following her finger as it traced a worn line of the wood.

"Aye, I would...I best uhh'..go, I'm sure the king will be missing me." He spoke almost reluctantly, but seemed rather relieved to be making his way out of the chambers when he was.

She was alone for almost half an hour before Kyra entered the chambers. She instantly saw the bruises. "Oh Sansa, sweet Sansa I should've told him to leave when I saw him drunk." She looked horrified, running over to see if she could help her.

"No, No Kyra It isn't what you think." Sansa felt guilty, she should've thought of Kyra, Kyra had actually gone through with such things. She felt terrible.

"Did he...Did he force himself on you!" Kyra looked horrified, her hands clasped over Sansa's elbows. "You can tell me."

Sansa gently pushed away, shaking her head. "No, Kyra...he had to." She paused, looking at Kyra's face carefully. "Joffery...he would've done worse to me otherwise, He had to." Kyra looked relieved, but then suddenly her face was plagued with worry. "If the king wants to hurt you, you should leave kings landing, your married now – you have nothing holding you here other than your husbands job, which he could easily quit im sure."

Sansa wished it was so, how she wished she could leave with her husband, perhaps back to Winterfell to rebuild what was left of her beloved home, or even to Rob and her mother in the north.

"It's not that simple, but don't blame Sandor for these, It was necessary."

Kyra smiled, nodding in understanding "I won't say a word, but you must know Cersei is snooping around, a lot. I worry she may try to get people to turn against you."

Sansa grimaced, looking upon her new friend with worry. "You wouldn't,would you? I need someone I can trust other than Sandor." Kyra sighed, placing her hand upon her arm.

"Of course Sansa, You're my friend, I'd never do such a thing

Sansa could only smile, for she finally had a friend she could trust.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

**Sandor**

As Expected, Joffery had heard Sansa crying, or, one of his little spies had.

He was pleased, his lips curved into a grin so sickly Sandor's hand twitched to his sword.

_If only._

"Seem's the wolf bites back, dog." His sneering voice almost showing signs of humour as the boy stared at Sandor's developing bruise. The little bird had struck him well enough for it to appear genuine.

He grunted in response to Joffery, deciding not to bother speaking.

"I thought you'd be more thankful..." Joffery stood from his iron throne.

"Ah, I have news for you, dog, your bitch's mother and brother are dead." Joffery didn't bother hiding any of his delight in the matter. "The Freys took care of them, apparently during a wedding. Not that it matters, they're dead." Joffery scanned his nails as if casually chatting, not discussing his wifes dead relatives. _The little bird will be crushed._

"Anyway I have a wedding myself, I'm sure you have your own matters to deal with." Joffery dismissed him briefly, he was used to such lack of regard – he was simply a piece of furniture which could wield a sword if required.

Sandor felt a twinge of dread in his stomach, he rarely felt nervous, or even upset. But the thought of telling his little bird her closest hope, Robert and Catelyn Stark, were dead cut deep.

He knew she would be distraught.

It took him a short while to break the news to her. She seemed to know before he even spoke, at least, whats what he thought by her expression.

Her small frame sunk to the floor, her little sobs short and stiffled. She shook as she cried, almost in a huddle, her back facing him. He stood there, awkwardly – he didn't know if she wanted him to leave, or to comfort her.

He let instinct take over.

He walked over, his hand reluctantly searching out her shoulder, he gently used his hand to pull her into his chest, forcing her into a tight hug. He had a be mindful of his own strength, for as much as he wanted to squeeze her tight and make it go away, he'd only hurt her.

She continued to cry for most of two hours, sobbing continuously – it broke his heart.

He never seen her this upset, even when her dear father Ned Stark, was beheaded she didn't seem this emotional. Perhaps it was her close relationship with her mother?

_Or the fact they were her last hope to escape._

_Escape kings landing.._

_escape him?_

She shook in his arms, it made him feel weak, to know she needed him so much.

"It'll be okay, little bird, I'll look after you." He muttered in her hair, she could barely nod in reply.

"We can't stay in here, you don't want to let them know." He ran his hand against her back, hoping it would bring some form of comfort. She knew he was right, to let Joffery have the satisfaction of her upset would make things worse.

She dried her eyes, standing to her feet and trying to calm herself. "I'll need a moment, my eyes are red and he'll know." She sniffed, drying her eyes once again.

He wished he could help her, but he knew there was no way to reverse what was done.

Perhaps, in time he could get some form of revenge for her.

But until then, she would have to put on a brave face.

Once Sansa's eyes were less aggravated from her previous tears, they walked from the chambers they shared. She clutched to his arm, almost holding onto him for support, physically and emotionally.

The people they passed in the halls looked towards them thoughtfully. They all knew. It was no surprise that news of what had occurred was spreading like wildfire, Kings landing was infamous for its gossip, in a place so corrupt you can only expect for gossip to be so common.

He kept Sansa close to his side, the open stares on almost every corner making him on edge.

He wanted to take her away from this place, run. He could keep her safe, no one could question him either, she was his wife. He could take her where he wanted..

So why didn't he? He couldn't pull the thought from his mind as they finally reached the gates which cut the red keep from the bustling streets of kings landing.

Sansa was comforted as she strolled around the stalls, taking a delight in the various wares which were on offer.

She always seemed to relish in the busy life of kings landing, even after the riots she seemed to have something for the common folk, she was always at peace when strolling the stalls, genuinely delighted with the atmosphere.

Her shred of happiness warmed him to the core, to see her smile after such heavy tears.

Her hand traced a pattern on a small necklace. It was a measly thing but she seemed to be enamoured by it.

"So pretty, isn't it?" She held the small pendant into the light, allowing it to catch the suns glare and shine. It was a simple pattern, with added green stones to highlight certain curls.

He grunted, knowing the stall merchant would surely triple the cost at the sight of who he was.

"How much?" He decided to cut to it, bothering not with formality and curtsey.

The stall merchant glanced at the simple thing, knowing it wasn't worth much.

"Three bronze stags."

Sandor had no real regret in having over the coins, it would make Sansa happy and any smile that he could gain from her would be worth all the gold in the world.

She took the small pendant in her hand, tracing her new necklace with her index finger as she held it pinched between her thumb. It was truly beautiful in her pale palm, she seemed enchanted by the simple trinket as the progressed through the streets of kings landing.

She eas rather quiet, her quiet manner irked him. He preferred when she wouldn't sut up, it was the option of the two annoying extremes he preferred, the sound of her voice filling his ears and warming his heart, even when the words where unsavoury or even stupid.

She turned to smile towards him, her beautiful pink lips curved into the most beautiful grin he'd every layed eyes on. Her smile always made him catch his breath, she was truly stunning.

They stopped along the way at various stalls, purchasing various trinkets and delicately scented soaps. The day drew to a slow close, the sun setting over the aegons hill and creating a mellow orange sky with it's passing, he would've called it beautiful if someone who surpassed it wasn't standing at his side.

She finally spoke, her voice strangely weak and subtle, if he wasn't paying so much attention he wouldn't noticed. "I'm sorry I haven't said much today." Her voice was weak. "I haven't been upto it, but I appreciate what you've done for me, I don't think I could've coped so easily if you were not at my side, thank-you Sandor."

He didn't know how to reply to that, he was seldom given a compliment, or even a thanks, he was a product of a harsh childhood and used to obeying orders without a simple acknowledgement for his work.

Still, it felt strange, especially from her, a girl whom he believe to have no regard for him.

"No problem.." He could only grumble, looking down at his feet like a shy child.

She seemed to smile at his sudden timidness. "I appreciate it, honestly." Sansa placed her tiny hand upon his bulking shoulders, rubbing his shoulder as she reflected for a moment. "I quite like our marrige." Her voice had a hint of humour in it, though he had never expected her to speak those words, perhaps sarcastically but never kindly or so truly meant.

They walked together in a awkward silence, occasionally giving eachother a passing glance or a shy look. It was only when Sansa was braisen enough to reach for his hand he broke from his thoughts. He looked, her small hand engulfed by his own giant palm. She squeezed his fingers tightly, thought to him it only barely felt like a slight pressure.

He grunted, his lip twitching but resistant to a full grin.

They walked together back to the red keep, holding hands.

This intimacy gained the stares and even giggles of passers by, clearly people believe either her to be to revolted by him to want to be near him, or him to violent and hateful for any signs of kindness.

Either way, their expressions amused him.

They walked through the halls to the red keep, their hands separating so not to send the message of their mutual friendship.

That would be more deadly.

As they reached their chambers the awkward silence came upon them again.

He went to sit at the simple table in the far corner of the room, whilst she got to work on putting away the various purchases of the day into their usual place. She toyed with the pendant for a few moments before walking to meet him, sitting opposite him on the wooden chairs which accompanied the table.

She held out the chain and pendant, smiling. "Can you help me? I can never do it myself."

He stared at the chain, grunting, he had to drag his reluctant feet from the chair, standing behind her once she stood. She used her small hands to sweep her firey Tully hair from her shoulders, allowing him to put the chain over her neck with ease.

His fingers had a clumsy moment, messing with the small fastening which joined the two ends of the chain. It annoyed him.

But, with a strained patience he managed to find the catch, joining the two links and locking the necklace into place.

Her small fingers covered the pendant with a smile, she turned to face him, using those very fingers to show him the pendant again.

"Very pretty, little bird."

Sansa's smiled waned slightly. "I'm not so little anymore, Sandor."

"Aye, I suppose you're right." His lip twitched, looking down openly at her eyes.

To his surprise, Sansa edged forward, leaning up as much as her toes would permit.

She placed a gentle kiss upon his scarred lips, her hands finding his shoulders and clutching them for support. He wrapped one of his arms over her waist, the size of it almost engulfing its entirety.

She sunk into him, almost melting against him.

He clutched to her tighter, letting his instinct take over.

They scrambled, awkwardly clutching eachother as they slowly progressed towards the bed. Sandor felt suddenly breathless once they found it, resulting in him laying there, Sansa's small frame ontop of him. He knew if it didn't stop now, it wouldn't stop at all.

He had to work on his restraint, it shouldn't have gone this far.

As he tried to pull himself from Sansa's suprisingly strong arms, she pushed him back down.

He grunted. "Little bird, I can't do this."

She still didn't budge.

"I want to." She ran her smooth palm against his cheek, smiling down at him. She was so beautiful.

He placed his own hand upon hers, engulfing her tiny hand. "You know I can't, I'll hurt you."

She placed her perfect lips upon his, caressing the scars as if they were not there. He groaned, knowing he couldn't let his happen. "Please...you know this can't happen little b-.." She cut him off, her fingers placed over his lips. "Sansa." She corrected him with a slight look of frustration. "I'm no longer a little bird." that certainly silenced him.

She finally leaned away, dropping onto the bed beside him with a sigh of clear irritation.

"It's for your own good." He grumbled, knowing she'd be sulking for days.

"I know." She turned away from him, leaving him facing her back. He used his arm to drag her by her small waist into his chest. "Stop being sulky, you said your no longer little." He smirked into her hair when she huffed, her temper always amused him. "Go to sleep Sandor." She grumbled.

He laughed, further causing her to prickle up and tense. "And you say I'M the childish one."

**Sansa.**

Sansa awoke, feeling a restricting pull on her waist. Sandor was still asleep.

She would've thought the squeeze uncomfortable once, but it was strangely soothing to her now.

She rested her head back against his chest, sighing.

They married, and yet he did not treat her like a wife, more a friend or even a burden she felt.

He didn't really want her, did he?

She nibbled mindlessly at her lip, she wasn't one for developing habits, but with the nerves she's had to face over her time in kings landing, she developed many. This being one of them.

As she habitually nibbled away, she felt Sandor stir beside her. He was waking up.

She turned herself as much as she could under the restricting hold his arm had on her.

"Good morning." She smiled, raising her hand to his face again. He grumbled in his usual grumpy fashion.."Mmm..What time is it." his eyes barely opening as he fought the overwhelming urge to go back to bed.

"It's nearly seven." He forced his eyes open, grumbling again. "I best get ready. The little shit will be wanting me." She hid her smirk, his attitude towards Joffery never failed to amuse her.

She dragged her fingertips against his chest, sighing.

"What's the matter?" He rasped, his voice strangely quiet due to his tired state.

"Why can't we just leave, I don't want to live here anymore."

He sighed himself, a rare thing from Sandor. "Aye, I want to leave to, be we can't. You know that."

She stirred, turning so she lay on her back and stared at the ceiling. "You're my husband now, you can leave if you want to, there's nothing keeping you here other than your duty to the king, which you can quit if you want. You can retire! He can't stop you, you've served him for years, Sandor."

He grumbled again, shaking his head at her foolishness. "You know why we can't leave Sansa." It was strange to hear her voice upon his lips. "He won't let me quit, and he certainly won't let me take you from kings landing." She groaned, slapping the bed in her minor frustration. "It's unfair, I want to leave." He stood, picking up his armour and sword to ready himself for the day. "Aye, It isn't fair, the world isn't fair. You have to get used to it." He tightened the straps of his armour, grunting at her naive manner. "We could cross the narrow sea, he couldn't find us there." He laughed at that, a twisted and somewhat bitter cackle. "He will, he can get us if he wants us. We can't simply just leave. It's not that simple." She sighed, dragging her fingers against the soft material of the bed. "I want to leave so much, can't we think of something?" He looked at her, his expression strangely solemn, although he was a depressed man, especially when drinking. He never looked this grave before. "I'll think of something." Those were the last words he spoke before he left.

She sighed, watching him walk out the door. She was sick of this place, the smell made her feel nauseous and ill.

As she stood from the bed, she noticed Kyra making an entrance. "What is troubling you Sansa, you seem rather upset." Sansa offered a simple smile, hoping it would suffice in getting Kyra off the subject of what was wrong. She couldn't tell her, she couldn't tell no one here.

Even Kyra, the girl she perhaps trusted more than she should, she couldn't.

"Nothing, he was just grumpy this morning." She dragged her fingers through her Auburn hair with a shrug. "You know how he is."

Kyra looked sympathetic at least. "Oh. Another one of those days?"

"Yes." She sat herself down, allowing Kyra to work on her hair. "It's a shame, I thought we were making such progress." Kyra sighed as she dragged the fine ivory brush through Sansa's hair.

"Men are fickle things, one day they are happy, the next they hate the world. Like children Sansa, never consistent with their thoughts and emotions." That at least made Sansa smile.

"True, Still though, he's so distant." Kyra looked at her, thoughtfully. "Well it is best that way, he could hurt you without meaning to. He's a big man, strong too, you're only a tiny thing in comparison." Sansa rolled her eyes at the reply, she knew she was thin but she also knew he could be gentle, suprising she supposed for such a strong and lethal man.

"I guess so..." She went quiet, allowing Kyra to fix her hair in silence.

The day was slow, dragging onwards, every minute could've felt like an hour. It was dreadful. Her and Kyra strolled the halls of the red keep, mumbling occasionally but it wasn't much of a conversation. The wedding of Margery and Joffery was coming, only a day or so away.

The halls buzzed with excitement and last minute preparations.

Sansa on the other hand felt nothing towards the occasion, it was to be lavish and over the top but still she couldn't even feign excitement. Kyra on the other hand was positively hyper for the occasion. "It's to be wonderful apparently, Margery will be wearing the most beautiful dress, she'll look stunning!, all the men in the seven kingdoms will be dying with jealousy over her. She's so pretty, isn't she? Apparently clever too." She yapped on and on. Sansa felt rather livid over her continuous speaking, it was frustrating.

Sansa smiled, nodding along, trying to act friendly, but she just didn't wan tot hear this any more.

Thankfully, as if blessed by the Seven, she saw Sandor walking down the hall, right towards her.

"Sandor!" She smiled, turning herself so she walked in step, Kyra trailing behind.

It was only on further inspection she saw his expression. He was angry. Very angry.

He grunted, walking in an insanely quick page to their chambers.

"Sandor..What's wrong." He looked directly at her, and then to Kyra who trailed behind intently.

"I'll tell you when we're alone." His voice a violent rasp, it scared her.

"What?" she went to protest, but look he gave her silenced any argument she may have made.

"When we're alone." His rasp a threatening dark tone, bidding her to silent.

As the entered the room, he began to pack things into a bag, shoving anything he could find in there. "What are you doing?" Her voice was almost a a squeak.

He looked at her incredulously "I'm getting us out of here, what do you think I'm doing?"

He continued to take anything he could. Picking up clothes, food, and other supplies.

"He's letting us go?" She knew it was unlikely, but had to ask anyway.

"No. I quit, and if anyone tries to stop me from leaving with you I'll rip their throats out."

He filled three bags with everything they may need, he tied him together so he was able to throw them over one shoulder. He grabbed her hand, snatching her from the room and once again they dashed down the hall of the red keep. His free hand twitching over his sword. It was only then she realised he was missing his cloak. He must've thrown it off when he declared he was leaving.

She felt sick with nerves, her hands becoming clammy and her heart racing, she thought she would pass out. She noticed Kyra running after them, her eyes were wide and her jaw practically hanging open. "Kyra..It's okay, go home!" She squeaked as she got dragged, unable to stop Sandor from making his quick exit. The young girl stopped in her tracks, looking rather upset as she watched the pair make their rushed leave of the red keep.

Sandor finally reached the stables, striding quickly to his massive black stallion, Stranger.

He didn't bother waiting for her to get on, instead, he grabbed her by the waist, which was easily covered by both his hands, and placed her on the back of the horse. He tied the bags which he had brought to the saddle, making sure the knots were tight enough to keep them in place.

He finally got on the horse himself, sending the aggressive stallion into a gallop from the stables.

A few guards tried to stop them, but it was no use. She felt increasingly sick, clutching to Sandor's waist as tight as she could. The horse was going so fast she thought she would fall off.

He clutched the reigns of the mighty horse with one hand, using his other to wield the word and slash down any opponent which came in his way. They fell down like rag dolls, Sandor only having to use one fatal swing of the sword to finish them. She could only squeal as the bodies fell limp infront of her very eyes. The unlucky few not having such a clean death, leaving them screaming in pain behind them. The screams were gut wrenching and sickening, she felt increasingly nauseous, the urge to vomit more than ever as the descented down Aegon's hill at a fast speed, the bumps in the cobbled streets of kings landing making the hurried exit through the bustling streets very uncomfortable, whilst the people in the way dodged the on coming horse, screeching and shouting obscenities on their way. It only took a matter of minutes for them to leave the walls of kings landing, barely any opposition stood in their way, they had left too fast for anyone to prepare themselves. It was then she realised what they had done, she felt sick but she was finally free.

* * *

**Note; Sorry for the slight wait! I've been busy, but I hope you enjoy the chapter, it was shorter than I originally intended it to be, feel free to comment, I'm very interested in hearing feedback and your own thoughts for how the story progresses, I hope to create many more chapters as I feel their relationship shouldn't be rushed , and you're opinions will be appreciated for improving the story as it goes on. **

**Thanks,**

_**J.**_


	7. Chapter 7

**Sandor.**

He stood, as usual – silent in the great hall, listening to the little shit drone his usual rubbish, the throne had made the boy more of an idiot than he was, the poor people suffered more every day the little bastard was on the throne. And so did he.

"Dog, How is your wife – I hear she's finally stopped her crying." Joffery smiled at that, looking directly upon him, hoping for a reaction.

"She's fine." He grunted, looking away from the boy. Joffery knew how to wind him up, and little did the boy know he was close to breaking point.

"Well, she doesn't have to fear for long, dog, for once Margery is pregnant – i'm sure it'll be soon." He arrogantly grinned, being careful as he leaned against the twisted iron of the throne. "I shall pay little Sansa my attentions, I'm sure that'll cheer her up, you won't be hearing her crying after that." He smirked directly towards him. He felt his blood boil, the thought of his hands on Sansa infuriated him to the core. "Aye...you do that." He looked away again, but it was in vain as the king summoned his attentions again. This time it was the boy who was annoyed. "I'll do it, don't you act as if I won't." His voice an octave higher than it's usual drone. His dismissal had pissed the kid off.

"I never said you wouldn't." Sandor felt suddenly awkward, shifting his weight onto his other leg. He didn't like were this was going. The boy stood up, adjusting his armour. It was quite pathetic on him, although it bulked the boy out and made him look more manly, it also highlighted his rather thin, wimp-like frame. "Why don't I go visit her now, if you'd prefer?" The boy went to walk off, his intentions for Sansa clear. That movement made him snap.

Sandor walked forward, his hand now placed upon the boy's shoulder. "I wouldn't, If I were you." His voice a surprisingly calm rasp. The boy looked slightly shocked, his eyes glued to Sandor's hand. "What are you doing, get off of me!" He shrugged the hand off, looking extremely pissed off at Sandor's bold movement. "You dare defy me?" The boy's voice rose, a brave little shriek from the king. It was high pitch and made him look like a girl. "I'm your KING!" Sandor's lips twitched slightly, he couldn't help but laugh. "Aye, You are." His laugh was unending. It drew the attention of the court, and embarrassed the boy which stood in front of him. "You are my dog, you don't laugh, you stay silent and obey!" That just set Sandor off again.

He unclipped his cloak, allowing the thick white material to sink to the floor. "Not any more."

He watched as Joffery flushed a deathly pale, and then straight to a brilliant shade of red.

"You can't, You can't just quit, I own you Hound!" At this point the little boy was just shrieking, having a tantrum. Sandor walked past the thin figure of the boy, glaring at any of the kings guard and men to try and stop him. They knew better.

"If you walk out that door, I will have your head." The boy shouted as much as his puny little voice would permit. It did nothing to change his mind.

"I'd like to see you try, boy." And with a harsh cackle he walked from the great hall, hearing the many shouts and insults of the boy through the great hall. He'd never seen the 'king' so mad.

He was smiling. But he knew he had to get the little bird and get her out of here, now.

He felt his legs drag him forth, snatching Sansa from the hands of her handmaiden the moment she was in his line of sight. He didn't listen to a single word she spoke, he was more focused on getting her the hell away from the place. Once they gathered the essentials and he briefly explained, they were on their way from kings landing. This should have happened sooner.

Once finally free of the walls of kings landing. They remained quiet, deathly silent.

She clung to him, even through his armour he felt the gentle strain of her arms. He could spare no time for rest, Joffery would send people after them. _Stupid little shit._

They rode for hours, he felt Sansa flop against his back, the girl needed rest.

_Where would they sleep?_

He grunted. He knew this was too much for him to handle. But he couldn't help it.

She needed his help. He needed her, and she wanted to be free.

He couldn't help but think that she'd want to be rid of him now, and yet with all the time they spent together, surely she must like him a bit more? She had tried to seduce him twice. Maybe there was hope.

The day drew to a peaceful close, the sun bidding a farewell and settling into the night, the sky was a gentle orange/red, it looked strangely beautiful.

He felt a twinge of pain in his legs, they had been riding for hours. But he couldn't stop. He dreaded to think how Sansa was, she wasn't accustomed to such long rides. But she was still asleep.

He moved her in front of him, using his arms to keep her upright on the horse.

She looked so peaceful, leaning on his chest. It was cute.

His thoughts were continuously disrupted by the twinges of pain in his thighs. He knew he'd have to make a camp somewhere, he couldn't ride forever and he was already feeling the effects.

_I feel old._

He grunted, he usually didn't feel the effects of his age, and suddenly here he was, knowing he was getting too old for this. But he knew that before Sansa his life seemed meaningless, his only goal was getting revenge on his brother. Gregor.

His name still made his blood boil. Fucking twat.

Nothing would give him satisfaction than to see his brother burn, to know he finally understood his pain. But then it still wouldn't be enough. To know he got to die, not suffer his childhood being stared at, being rejected. _Unloved._

He looked back at Sansa, sighing.

This girl brought him a strange hope...maybe one day she'd love him?

To be loved...

he wasn't worthy of the emotion, never mind from such a high born lady, such a pretty little thing.

She was so vulnerable, small in his arms. He looked ahead at the empty road. It wouldn't be long until they reached the dock. Once there, they could travel over the narrow sea. Safe.

Braavos was where they were going. He didn't know anyone there, and sure enough nobody knew him. He had enough gold from the tourney to give them a good start, a home and decent food surely. He could easily find a job, either as a swordsman, guard...maybe even more grafting work, he was strong enough. He could handle it. Especially if it was for her. The little gift from the seven asleep in his arms. He smelt her lemon scented hair, sighing against her firey locks.

He was a lucky man, through such a twisted fate he was able to hold her, laugh with her.

He had never felt such fond feelings for someone before, not since his family. Before the burns.

After the incident with Gregor it was as if he lost all emotional connection with his family. They were just people to him, none of them of importance or significance in his eyes, and yet, with her he felt...safe. She couldn't protect him, not physically. She was tiny. But emotionally he felt trusting with her, strangely believing she wouldn't crush his heart and soul in her tiny palm like he believed many a woman would. She was different, pure, sweet even. Innocent.

She knew of his crimes and didn't judge, she saw his face and feared it, grew to look at him with more than just fear and loathing. He felt his lips twitch. He shouldn't think of this too much, he couldn't get his hopes up. He couldn't bare the pain if she rejected him. It would be too much to bare.

He brought stranger to a stand still, bringing him to a running creak to have a well deserved rest and drink, the poor horse was tired, carrying not only the weight of Sandor – but little Sansa too, and the supplies. He was truly worn out.

As Sandor dislodged himself from the saddle and carefully placed Sansa in his arms, he felt his legs stiffen. This would be very sore in the morning. Very..very sore._.Fuck._

He grunted bitterly, knowing it had to be done. They were a long way from kings landing. Not far enough, but it was a start. He set up their bed rolls and anxiously made a fire, inching away from the sparks until it was ignited. He hated the task, but it needed to be done.

He lay her delicate little frame on the bed roll, covering her with a thin blanket, barely anything. But better than nothing. She looked so sweet. His lips twitched again at the sight. He dragged his own bed roll closer to her, but maintained a distance. He didn't want to push any boundaries. _You've shared a bed for god sake._ He grunted at his thoughts, looking at Sansa, he felt his lips turn into a rare, genuine smile.

**Sansa**

Sansa stretched her arms, they had a dull ache. She hadn't expected the resistant aching. As she awoke she looked around, Sandor lay, asleep on his bed roll a short distance from her. And the remains of a fire flickered, barely lit but still it had traces of life.

Stranger was tied to a tree, close to river so he was able to take the occasional drink.

He looked peaceful, though Sansa knew better than to trust how he looked. He was prone to sudden mood swings, and he was grumpy. _Just like someone we know..._

Sandor grumbled in his sleep, shuffling and becoming restless. He was rather adorable when he slept, there were nights when she had awoke, and simply lay watching him.

Adorable was usually never a word to be associated with Sandor, he was known for his brutal actions and battle and fierce appearance, and even Sansa knew better than to tell him when he was awake, and yet, she couldn't help but smile and watch moved her own bed roll so it lay directly next to his. As she lay back down she stared at the sky. It was medium shade of blue. The sun was glanced at the giant form at her side, knowing he would soon be had been married for almost three weeks...

Her husband. _Not that he's happy about it._

She sighed. Sandor was too caring, he worried that he'd hurt her, and yet he was oblivious that regardless of hurt, it was what she wanted. And she knew he wanted it too.

Yet all they did was deny each other and live a lie. It was stupid.

But a part of her was terrified.

The other was excited, eagerly anticipating the moment when they'd finally be together, in a husband-wife kind-of way..

She noticed Sandor moved more vigorously in his sleep, and then he came to a halt.

He was awake.

She felt his burning grey eyes upon her. "What're you doing there." his rasp was strained and low, he was still very much asleep.

"I was cold." She smiled rather sheepishly, hoping he bought her excuse.

Really, she was lonely.

"Oh." He didn't bother making further conversation, he busied himself with preparing for another day's riding. She still had no idea where they would go. Winterfell maybe? The vale?

She lay back, watching him prepare Stranger for riding. He then busied himself with packing up their belongings and giving her some bread. She mumbled a thank-you and let him continue clearing up. The fire by this time had burned out, leaving ash and other left over signs of its existence. He knocked the small piles over, rubbing them into the ground and making them appear less obvious, more hidden. If you hadn't known it was there, you wouldn't have seen it.

He wasted no time in putting her back on the horse, she was still nibbling at her bread as he helped her mount. He positioned himself behind her, allowing her to be encased within his massive arms. She felt surprisingly safe in his grasp.

"Where are we going." She leaned her head back, watching his jaw clench before he spoke.

"Somewhere safe." He grunted, looking down upon her for a short moment. His lips twitched after he looked upon her. At least he was smiling, well, his way of smiling anyway.

"Where's that?" She stared ahead at the road, sighing to herself as he went quiet. She wasn't going to get an answer. "I don't mind, I'm just wondering, that's all, any place will do..."

Still, nothing.

She set her focus on the road ahead, grunting to herself as he went quiet. She hated him silent. It was awkward and tense.

She missed the playful side of him, even when he was drunk he used to joke around and sing a song or two. Yet, when he was serious he was absorbed in his tasks. It annoyed her. "Did you sleep well?"...he still said nothing.

"I did, if you wanted to know – but I suppose you don't care much." She looked down at her hands, sighing to herself once again. "I had a wonderful dream, perhaps you'd want to know?"

He didn't bother replying, answering only with the same deadpan expression and none existent voice. "I'll take that as a yes." She knew how to get under his skin, but she felt her cheeks blush before she even began.

"We...kissed." She paused. Glancing upwards at the deadpan look. Nothing. She grunted, he must be playing a game with her, surely?

She decided to match his silence. They remained that way for at least an hour. Unwavering silence.

"Anyway, in this dream.." She finally broke the quiet. He grunted a little, it was better than nothing.

"We did more than kissing, really." Her cheeks blushed, she felt her face heat up. She did all she could to pin her gaze on her hands. "You were...holding me." She felt him shift behind her, he was uncomfortable. She didn't know if it was with her words, or simply the enduring of the travel, but she decided to continue and find out.

"You kissed me here." She pointed at her neck. He shifted, again.

"All the way down.." She didn't need to point for that description. He grunted, she smiled, knowing he was actually listening. "Then we made lo-.." She felt his massive hand suddenly clasp over her lips. Silencing her. She shouted over his hand, but it was no use. Her words were muffled and indistinguishable. It was all just muffled rubbish. "That's better." he smirked, keeping his hand over her mouth as the journey continued.

They finally reached the destination Sandor had been heading for.

Sansa knew it was a port, they were heading towards a docked ship. She had no idea were they were going, which port it was, but she knew it was across the narrow sea. She suddenly felt giddy.

She had heard tales of places across the narrow sea, tales of beauty and elegance and wonders. All to be seen. She couldn't even ask where they were going, as Sandor's massive hand had remained over her lips, silencing any questions she may have asked. There was no use trying.

They quickly boarded the ship, Sandor paid off the man who stood on the docks, paying for a single room with one bed, large enough for two. He muttered into her ear, something about it being safer if we were closer, that the men on this ship would be more than interested in a girl. The raunchy nature of Sailors wasn't unknown. It made Sansa's stomach twist with slight anxiety, although she knew she'd be safe enough with Sandor at her side.

He had finally released her lips once they reached their room. She wondered why he continued to hold her lips closed as they boarded the ship. The looks of the men as they watched his hand on my mouth had been evidence it wasn't normal affair, they'd be suspicious and now curious to what they were doing here. Surely, he knew that?

"You stay here, girl, I don't want you leaving the room unless I'm with you." He grunted, staring at her for a long moment. "Okay" Her voice was a simple squeak. "Good.." He rasped at her, looking strangely tired. He made him look older.

Although almost twice Sansa's age, he never seemed to look that old to her, until now.

His eyes, sunken with lack of sleep showed his ageing features with more definition.

"You best sleep, it's a long journey ahead." As she lay on the uncomfortable bed, she sighed. Her muscles all relaxed and relished the better boardings. So much better than the thin bed roll on the floor, her muscles savoured the feeling of the mattress, her body became instantly curled under the blankets. She felt her eyelids grow heavy, fast.

Her lips parted, giving way for a yawn. "S-...Sandor, where are we going?" she looked up from the blankets, being further pushed to sleep by the gentle rockings of the boat. She wouldn't be awake for long. "You'll know soon enough, girl – Sleep." His voice was almost commanding, silencing her and it was the final encouragement for her to finally rest. She felt her eyes close and her mind drift into it's own little world.

* * *

**Sorry about the growing waits, ****I'm not feeling so well. Hopefully the next chapter will be either tomorrow or the following day.**

**Thanks,**

_**J.**_


	8. Chapter 8

**Sandor**

He couldn't wait to be away from her. She was tempting him on purpose. It aggravated him that hse tried such foolish things, one day she'd do it and he wouldn't be able to stop himself.

It was like torture for him, listening to his sweet little bird saying such things. Stupid girl.

He drained the first skin as if it were water, he was used to drinking, but his thirst for wine had never been this strong before. He grunted. The thoughts of Sansa burdened his brain. He couldn't be rid of them, his wife.

He stood from the deck of the ship, heading back to their room. He knew he shouldn't leave her for long, stupid girl would end up in the middle of the narrow sea.

He entered the room and found her sleeping. It was a relief, a weight off his shoulders.

He climbed on the small bed very carefully. She was so small he was able to fit with a little room. But he knew one wrong move and he'd crush her. It was irritating. It was the alcohol talking.

He stared at the ceiling, the wooden interior of the ship had grew tired and worn, the sea air and general lack of care giving it a harsh look. He grunted at the sight. He wanted sleep, but his mind was too active, he knew Joffery would be throwing a fit in kings landing, he always did. Little shit.

Should've stabbed the little bastard on your way out..

Sandor turned onto his side, mumbling bitterly to himself as he tried to sleep.

The swaying of the ship made him uncomfortable and nauseas, or it was the cheap wine. But the mix of the two made him feel like vomiting, he managed to contain his ill feeling and somehow drifted to sleep.

_She was so soft beneath his hands, so small..._

_she cuddled against him, saying his name with affection "Sandor..."_

_She kissed his burnt side, her lips so gentle against his savaged skin.._

_he went to touch her – and she vanished. He leaned up, searching "Sansa?"_

_He couldn't find her.. "Sansa?" She didn't reply, she was gone. He lost her. No._

"_Sansa?" He stood up, looking desperately for her, he finally found her._

_He ran to her, she was trapped in a cage. He tried to help her, get her out._

_And then when he finally reached her she turned into flames..._

_Fuck._

He awoke, sweating, Seven hells...

he looked at the young girl at his side, she wasn't on fire. He felt his heart pounding in his chest. He used his hand to wipe away traces of sweat from his brow. Fuck. Fire...it always gave him nightmares. It was horrible...one moment she was his and then she burnt him. Fuck fuck fuck.

He stood from the bed, grunting to himself as he felt his head booming with an ache. Hungover from the cheap wine. He needed water, cold water. He looked at the small window in the room. It was raining. Just what he needed.

He stepped into the ice cold rain on deck, he sighed, enjoying the cool drops as it hit his face. It was soothing. He was so worked up over the dream he awoke, hot and sweaty. He hated it.

The cold rain cooled his burning skin and made him less hot. He felt a sudden relief as his temperature went back to a normal level. No more burning.

He felt something touch his shoulder, when he turned he was faced with Sansa.

Her hair was now wet due to the rain, she was shivering. "Wh-..why a-..are y-..you out-s..s..side."

Her teeth were chattering due to the cold, she was soaked to the core. He grunted, picking her up and throwing her over his shouler. "I should be asking you that, silly girl, do you want to get ill!"

He threw her on the bed once they reached their room. He covered her in all the blankets he could find. "I don't want you getting Ill, don't go looking for me. I'll come back soon enough." He sat on the edge of the bed, watching her frown. Her lips were pouted slightly. How he urged to kiss those pretty little lips of hers.

She looked down at the blankets, and then her hands. "I'm sorry.." her voice was gentle. She was upset. He dragged her into his chest, fixing her blankets so she would remain warm.

She felt so small against him. He couldn't bare to let her go. She cuddled against his side like in his dream, he wanted to keep her there, safe, warm.

She sighed against him and settled there, she was so fragile.

He sunk against the uncomfortable bed, smiling as she closed her eyes and drifted off. He dragged his hand through her damp hair.

The traveling would be at least two days if weather was good, Braavos would give them a new beginning, though he wasn't sure if she'd want to be stuck there with him, she had no other choice. Joffery would find her in anywhere In the seven kingdoms and bring her right back.

He didn't want that for her, he'd die first than see her locked back in that prison.

She deserved better. She deserved better than that, and she even deserved better than him.

He grunted at the realisation. She was his wife, and yet he couldn't look at her that way. He didn't feel worthy of it.

Sandor dragged his hand through her damp hair again, sighing.

She shouldn't be married to a monster like him. She deserved a prince with gallantry and looks, like the prince of flowers. _Not that he'd be any better..._

He felt himself starting to get annoyed, irritated. Angry.

He always found a way to wind himself up, and this was one of them. Although he had her in his arms she wasn't his, was she? It was a forced marrige and she'd be better with a handsome knight. And here he was, whisking her away to a foreign land and forcing her to stay with him.

He was selfish,

Although it appears he's doing it to protect her, deep down he knew it was to keep her.

This way she would be free of Joffery and completely his. Unquestioningly his.

He could protect her, provide for her. _Love her._

He sighed and pushed her harder against his chest, she snuggled up in her sleep and made him smile.

He didn't want to lose her, he couldn't lose her. The idea of her being taken from him chilled him to the core and made him furious.

He felt his eyes grow heavy, he needed rest. But he didn't want to sleep.

The nightmares which plagued him made him hate sleep. He thought they had gone, and now they're back. Back with a vengeance.

The visions of Sansa on fire haunted him. She could easily hurt him, fire or not.

Emotionally he was vulnerable to her. He knew that. He always had been, every time she didn't look at him, she looked away – it hurt him.

It was a rare thing when Sandor was hurt over something emotionally, in fact, before Sansa came along he hadn't been hurt on an emotional level since his childhood. She made him feel again.

And now she could crush him with the wrong words or look.

He lay down fully, allowing himself to feel comfort as she cuddled against him.

What would they do when they got in Braavos?

He had a decent supply of gold from the tourney, he seldom spent it as the guard of king most things such as wine and food were supplied. He didn't need much else.

So money wasn't a problem...

Places to stay were an easy find in Braavos, they had many empty places for tourists or passers by.

It was infamous for it's courtesans which attracted many tourists. So the place was ready for oncoming visitors.

Food wise, there would surely be markets. Food is food, everyone needs it.

He sighed, wondering if the wine would suffice...

His mind was all over the place, panic mostly.

He didn't want to let the girl down. She relied on him so much.

He grunted at his own thoughts, they always got the better of him, never did him any good to over think everything. He settled against the uncomfortable bed, shifting himself so the girl had some room. She cuddled closer, meaning his efforts were wasted, but he couldn't help but smile.

He watched her sleep for a few minutes before his own eyes grew heavy and he fell asleep.

**Sansa**

Sansa could only gasp in amazement, she stood on the deck of the ship.

The ship approached the Titan of Braavos, it was used to guide ships into the port. It was truly magnificent. The figure of the Titan stood majestically above the water, it's legs carved into a sort-of wall of rock. It was so tall.

Sansa could only look in wonder at how this was made, it was huge!

The massive figure stood tall, the ornate carvings showed armour and defined the titans muscles. Wow.

She looked on in awe of the figure, as the ship approached the sheer size of the titan became more and more obvious.

She felt nervous when the ship went through, the legs were so big she thought they'd crash.

Sandor laughed at her expression as the ship sailed through the passage.

Sansa nudged Sandor in return, laughing a little as he frowned. "I'm kidding." She grinned, he smiled reluctantly. He placed his arm over her shoulders and dragged her into a hug. "I know, I was only messing." They both watched on as they approached the beautiful port of Braavos.

A new life...

The port was huge, filled with ships. The buildings around it where striking, bright colours.

She hadn't expected it to be so vibrant.

The buildings were all bright and looked magnificent in the sunlight.

There were gilded row boats too, which slowly moved through the waters leisurely.

It was a different place, it felt more energetic and more welcoming.

She felt a pang in her heart as she realised she had left everything she once knew behind.

Her home, her family. _They are dead._

Winterfell, she'd never see the place she once lovingly called home again.

But it was apparently burnt to the ground now.

_There must always be a stark in winterfell.._a mantra mother used to always repeat, especially to Rob. _I Miss Mother. Rob..._

Rickon...

She felt herself sniffle, she had to choke back a sob.

Everyone she had once loved was either dead or missing.

And now she was here there was no hope of her ever seeing their faces again.

Sandor wrapped his arm tighter around her shoulders, dragging her into his grip with a solemn smile. "It'll be okay, little bird, I'll keep you safe." He hugged her so tightly she couldn't breath, but she knew that things might not be okay.

It was a new place, they didn't know that much of it, well, she didn't anyway.

No one could doubt the hounds fierce and naturally strong build. He was huge!

But then, we didn't know what waited here in Braavos. She knew he'd die before letting harm come to her, it brought her comfort. But if he did die, she'd be alone in a foreign land. What would become of her?

She edged closer to Sandor, smiling weakly and using her hand to pull his arm around her tighter.

She lost everyone she once cared about, she couldn't bare to lose him too.

He was all she had left in the word, all she had to love.

He smiled at her as the ship began to dock at the port. Their new life was about to begin.

* * *

**Shorter Chapter than usual, I promise to make up for it in chapter 9!**

**Thanks,**

_**J.**_


	9. Chapter 9

**Sandor**

Sandor and Sansa made a quick retreat from the ship, he didn't want to waste time lingering on the thing if he didn't have to. Being off the boat was a relief. It meant he didn't have to worry about sailors over stepping the line with Sansa.

Of course the initial first walk on land was nerve racking. Sansa looked mortified as she tried to adapt. The people wore bright clothes and were much less reserved than in Kings Landing.

The courtesans were openly praised and therefore paraded themselves around more than a usual wench would. Such open displays were a shock for Sansa. She barely hid her surprise.

The women were naturally confident and had their own type of grace to them. But then, they were obviously whores. They openly paraded themselves, maybe for customers or perhaps because they could. One caught sight of Sandor and flashed him a smile. Sansa was blushing fiercely and she even went as far as grabbing him by the hand to drag him off. His little bird was jealous?

They walked the streets of Braavos. It took time to adjust to the new lands, everything was so different, may it be language or even custom.

Sansa was tired, she didn't openly mention it but the dark smudges under her eyes confirmed it. As did her slow walking and yawns.

Sandor sighed to himself as he watched her drag her feet along.

"It's...new, isn't it?" He grumbled in a way of making conversation. He was never good at it.

She smiled at him, clearly uplifted by his efforts. "It's very pretty, though the women are...shocking for me to absorb if anything," She toyed with her beautiful Tully hair.

"They're much more respected here." He felt awkward discussing such matters with Sansa, she was so lady like it didn't seem fit.

She smiled nonetheless and they both went on walking through the streets of Braavos.

It took a short while to find somewhere to stay, in fact it was easier than he originally expected. A small house (2 bedrooms, which although not spoken – he assumed Sansa would prefer.)

Was rather cheap in comparison to places in Kings Landing, although Sandor had little experience with such thing he knew getting a house for little less than 6 gold stags was very good.

The house its self was simple in its state, made of white bricks which blended with the other buildings. It wasn't outlandish and it didn't attract unwanted attention.

With the practically untouched winnings from the tourney, they'd be able to live comfortably with every necessity they may need – and Sandor wouldn't have to work, not for a long time at least.

He could protect Sansa as his main priority.

Sansa was already planning decorations and flowers to lighten up the place, she was speaking of new bed coverings and other things they may need. She was in her element as she muttered softly to herself. It eased Sandor's guilt to see her this way, happy. She was content in her own way, suggesting fabrics and colours to 'light up' the room. It kept her entertained at least.

The house was modest to say the least but it did the job, it didn't attract attention and it was somewhere to live.

Somewhere perhaps safer for her than kings landing. Away from Joffery.

Sansa sat on the chair near a small table, there was two relatively old seats next to the table, they weren't exactly the best of chairs but they were handy.

Sandor sat opposite, he felt increasingly awkward.

"Do you like it here?" His voice was a usual grumble. He knew she was used to luxury, something he couldn't provide. He hated himself for it.

She looked so small here, so weak and fragile.

"It's nice." She smiled at him in her usual manner, she was so sweet she didn't deserve all the harsh treatment that was put upon her, in fact, nobody was deserving of it.

He could only wish for a better life for her, as he knew himself what it was like to be oppressed and victimised by someone who should love you and care for you.

To be betrayed and stuck in the situation with no means of escape.

He smiled back at her, a rare but increasing thing. "It's a start, Sansa. I know it isn't much but it's better than nothing." He still felt awkward when talking to her, she was too good for him.

She smiled at him and extended her hand across the table, taking his hand, giant in comparison to her own, she looked so beautiful. She always did to him, but now with that caring smile on her face, looking at him the way she did, she looked truly stunning. He placed his other hand over hers and sighed. "I wish I could give you better." It was the truth.

Her eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I like it here, stop with the negativity Sandor. Ever since we were married all we do is face negativity. I hate it."

Well, that certainly put him in his place. He grunted. "Sorry..." He felt like a child being reprimanded.

"You're my husband and I'm your wife and this is our new home, regardless of size or looks we can make it better together, I'm sick of you constantly judging our marriage to be 'unfair', we're in this position now and we might as well get used to it." Sansa sighed and withdrew her hand. She looked annoyed, rightly so.

She rarely stepped out of line from her usual curtsey and politeness, but it was more often lately.

Now they were married she didn't feel the social-expectancy to be all polite and perfect for him. She had flaws like anyone else and she embraced them and wasn't afraid to show them to him. It was trust. But Sandor couldn't exchange the same thing. His flaws ran deeper, they were darker and they could hurt her if he ever lost control. He was a monster, a dog, nothing more and nothing less.

As much as Sansa tried to ignore the fact it was a simple truth that should be acknowledged.

"Here, our marriage doesn't stand." He leaned back in his own seat, waiting for her reply to that one.

"To the old gods and new it stands, Sandor. If you want rid of me, why did you take me to Braavos?" Her voice bit like Valerian steel.

"I don't want rid of you, Sansa." He groaned. This was bad. One hour in Braavos and things were turning sour quickly.

"Really? It sounds like it." She was hurt. Tears rimmed her eyes as she stood from the table. He really had stepped in it. He quickly met her as she stood to her feet, enclosing her hand in his own and keeping her in front of him, stopping her plans to make a quick exit.

"I'm sorry." His voice was an awkward rasp. He never apologised to anyone before and the words felt foreign on his lips. Sansa looked as shocked as he felt. "You apologised?" She spoke softly in her usual demure and delicate manner, she raised her free hand to brush a strand of her loose Tully hair from her eyes. Those eyes captivated him.

"Yes. I'm sorry I made you feel that way, I just...You...You deserve better." He was grumbling now, and he looked down at his feet like an awkward adolescent. He wasn't used to this. He didn't like feeling so outright_ vulnerable._

Her small hand suddenly touched his shoulder. She looked suddenly solemn. "I don't want anyone else, why must you constantly judge everything? Can't you see I'm happy to be married to you, I'm happy to be here, with you, and I'm thankful that I'm YOUR wife." He gazed down into her stunning blue eyes. She was so genuine it made him feel a pang in his heart.

He knew she wouldn't lie to him so cruelly, but the words didn't fit right, him a monster with a little lady. He sighed and ran his hand through her hair. "I just hate to see you like this." Sansa looked confused by his words. "What do you mean 'like this'?" he smiled at her and drew her into a hug. "Without all of your lady-like finery, not in a castle with a worthy lord." He laughed bitterly at his own words, though he knew if things had turned out differently with Ned Stark, that's where she would be, where she belonged if Cersei hadn't snatched it from her.

"I don't need all that, I'm here with someone who protected me, who risked so much for me, and yet they're so blind to ignore the obvious." She looked truly upset by something. It pained him to see her so sad. "What's wrong, Sansa?" He wondered if anything had happened, had someone upset her? He couldn't see how as they were quick amongst the streets but Braavos was a different place, he could easily have turned away and someone may have made a lewd comment. He'd kill them if they had, he'd kill anyone who upset Sansa.

"Sandor..." She sounded nervous. What was eating at her? "Yes?" He raised his eyebrow. What was wrong with her? "Why-...Um...Why haven't you consummated our marriage yet?" _Seven Hells!_

* * *

**More of a view of Sandor, Next will be Sansa's view of his reaction, sorry for the wait**

_**J.**_


	10. Chapter 10

**Sansa**

Sandor didn't reply for a long time, he just stood there. Staring.

Sansa felt her nerves finally hit her in the stomach, she felt sick.

She should've known he wouldn't react well to such a brazen question, so unladylike, her former self would have gasped and perhaps died with shame at such a thing, and yet, here she was, asking it so openly and getting a horrified expression with silence in return.

"Sandor?" she could barely squeak her words, he just stared at her. His lip twitching repeatedly and yet no words came.

He turned away from her and stared into the wall. His back tense, he wasn't taking her question well.

"Is that what you want, Sansa?" His voice was gruffly, a darker timber than his usual rasp.

She assumed it was simple anger with his voice. He was angry at her question and she felt a pang of guilt in her chest. She shouldn't have asked such a personal question, but it was one she had been dying to know the answer for.

"I want us to have a proper marriage, Sandor – not some half-shot arrangement what we're stuck with. An actual, loving marriage, a family in the future too. I'm sick of us acting as if this marriage is a burden because it isn't and it doesn't deserve to be."

She sighed after speaking, she wasn't accustomed to performing such speeches.

Her anxiety tugged at her stomach again. His deathly silence was something of an irritation, and yet he did not move. Not even slightly.

She went to walk into her own bedroom when his steel-like grasp came upon her arm and dragged her into his chest.

He was angry, his eyes burnt with a unknown rage as they sunk down into her own.

She felt herself gasp for breath, but it did nothing to relieve her of her sudden fear.

He grunted and leaned down, pressing his scarred lips upon her own and making her jolt a bit with shock.

She hadn't expected such a reaction, his expression was surely one that portrayed anger, irritation?

And yet he kissed her so passionately she didn't know what had come over him.

She felt his arm suddenly lock around her legs and within a second she was being carried into a bedroom.

Was this it? Was it going to finally happen?

She felt nervous again, a new kind of nervous. Anticipation and fear all delicately rolled into one.

His lips found hers again and drove her into a sudden oblivion, emotionally she was conflicted but she was more than happy with the sudden heat rising in her stomach.

Sansa knew he would be delicate with her, he wouldn't hurt her if he could avoid it. And yet she felt a sharp sense of worry. What if he did?

Unintentionally he could really hurt her, he was naturally massive, his figure and weight could surely crush her.

He was also heavy handed, he would accidentally crush her fingers with his own without knowing is own strength, what if the same occurred during this?

Would he know and stop – or would she have to grin and bare it?

Or would she even care to begin with?

Everything was so overwhelming she could hardly think straight.

His hands tugged at her dress and his lips nearly suffocated her. But it felt good.

She was gasping for breath not because he was restricting her, but because she was totally breathless over the experience.

He had rarely shown her such displays of passion. He was usually very conservative and often preferred silence to voicing his views and opinions or even telling her how he felt.

You'd think a man such as Sandor would have a lot to say, and yet without alcohol in his system he was rather shy, it was endearing.

His hands found the laces at the back of her dress and made quick work of undoing them.

She felt herself blush as the material began to slip away.

She hadn't been truly naked before him, in revealing clothes yes, but never skin bare before his eyes.

It was terrifying, to feel her pulse race and her heart throb her in throat.

He tugged the final pieces of material from her skin and gasped in appreciation to sight which was revealed. He mumbled 'So beautiful' against her skin and kissed her, following an invisible trail from her lips to her neck._ And lower._

Sansa had to remind herself to stay calm in such an exhilarating experience.

It was within what felt like seconds that Sandor bared his own chest, he was lying against her, his heavy breathing matching her own. His eyes black and glazed over in what she now understood to be desire.

"Do you want this, If I go further I won't be able to stop myself." His hands found her hips, and to her shock his hands were trembling. He was as nervous as she.

"Yes." She could barely breath the word, as she mustered up the voice to say it she was cut off by her own gasp when he kissed her once again.

His nakedness matched her own and then, before she could even prepare herself.

They were finally consummated, truly man and wife the way it should be.

Their love, once a nervous and unspoken emotion was now confessed and materialized in the flesh.

They were one – they were together.

When it was over they lay tangled in each others arms. Sated and somewhat in disbelief over the exchange between them both. So unexpected and yet natural.

He buried the burnt side of his face into her Tully hair and took an inhale of her scent. He sighed against her skin and the warmth of his breath made her shiver.

"I love you." His murmured against her hair and she felt a surge of emotion. Three small words with such an impact.

She took his hand, so huge in comparison to her own, in both of her hands.

She kissed it and placed it against her cheek with a smile. "As I love you, My husband." She traced his fingers with her own and smiled at the word. Husband.

It had been true for so long and yet not.

For only at this moment did the word feel true, it felt right.

"My wife." He smiled as he muttered the word and he clutched her tighter to his chest.

She felt herself turn giddy in reply to such a display. Sandor was not one for emotions and yet here they were, joined together and so complete. She had never felt such happiness, perhaps there was a time, long ago, in winterfell when she did.

But it was a blurred memory and looking back it was a bittersweet one.

Here was a pure happiness with a man whom she knew would never leave her, who would stay beside her and protect her.

She felt safe. Although Winterfell was the place she was born.

With him she truly felt at home.

She curled against his bulking form and sighed. His arms so arm around her, she never wanted to leave. And she never would.

The world faded to black and all she could think of was her husband, their family. The future.

And what a future it was...

**Sandor **

_5 years later..._

Sandor stood, his arms wrapped around his beautiful wife as they watched their first son, Ned, run around Braavos with his usual energetic enthusiasm

His son inherited the usual Clegane build, he would be strong like his father when he was older.

The thought made him smirk.

So innocent and beautiful, his childlike manner reminded him of a young Sansa, so open to the world of fairy tales, wondering if he'd be a gallant knight.

Although a bitter thought, Sandor couldn't hold it against him. For although the world of knighthood is a total hypocrisy, maybe his son would restore some of the 'old ways', and stay true to the vows. He could only smirk at the thought, for the child now five years old had many a year ahead before he would think of such ambitions with a more committed and serious nature.

"Ned, slow down!" Sansa was running after him with her usual worry.

Sansa had inherited such a fierce love for her children from her mother, Catelyn, Ned was her pride and joy and she enjoyed nothing more than raising her boy to be family proud.

Sandor quickly caught up with his wife, taking her by the arm and grunting with disapproval.

"You don't want to be wearing yourself out, wife, what of the child?" He could only smile at his words. Sansa was almost due for their next child. One she sworn to be a girl.

Her belly swelled and showed obvious signs of a near arrival.

He rubbed her stomach tenderly with a pride grin.

Ned had joined them and too, placed his small hand on his mothers stomach.

"What will you call her?" He looked up, his striking eyes the exact image of his mothers.

He could only smile, for although he inherited his own dark hair, Ned had the beautiful eyes he had spent so many an hour gazing into.

Sansa directed her gaze to Sandor, who raised his eyebrow in reply. "You can call her anything you wish." He smiled, for her hand only his sister to think of as a name, and yet his sister, although sparing him a simple kindness – oft thought of him as a burden. He felt a slight love for her, but knew his daughter deserved a better name. Mean in some respects, but true.

"I was thinking, Arya." Her hand found her stomach and rubbed it with affection.

He grunted. "Arya...", for it was no unknown fact Sandor disliked the younger sister of his wife.

Although their time together was brief, it was enough to irritate the crap out of him and make him swear never to allow himself to be in her company again. Of course, now they were in Braavos, it was a thing that they knew would not happen.

Thank-god.

"I like Arya." Sandor smiled as she placed her tiny hand over his own. "Arya Clegane." Ned grinned at them both eagerly and then suddenly shot off in the direction they were heading. He was a fast runner but he couldn't outrun his father.

Sandor caught up with him and picked up the boy with a roar of laughter, the child kicked and squirmed whilst giggling. Sandor finally felt his life was perfect, a family who loved him with a daughter to come.

A safe home in Braavos, away from anything that may hurt them, Joffery, Cersei, even Gregor.

Gregor...

Sandor hadn't thought of his brother for years, once his life was set on revenge and yet now he didn't care.

He had his family and his brother could eat shit and die for all he cared.

He smiled as he walked with his wife and his son.

Although life hadn't been easy for Sandor, he would never change a single minute. For although he was burnt , his wife loved him regardless. He no longer loathed himself like he once did.

He was at peace. He was finally home.

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**:) I hope you liked the story, I'm pondering on a possible follow up on the lives of the children, who knows!**

**Thanks for reading,**

_**J.**_


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